


Time's Tide

by intoapuddle



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Closeted Character, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 78,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23197876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoapuddle/pseuds/intoapuddle
Summary: All men have secrets, and Phil won't let his own be known. But even in 1984's Manchester there is another person that understands.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Phil Lester/Original Character(s)
Comments: 498
Kudos: 682





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lackless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lackless/gifts).



> Based on a prompt by phandomgives auction winner Netalia @lackless: "An au set in the 1980s in which Dan and Phil bond over their shared love for the Smiths."

There’s a bird in a small metal bar cage with a rounded top. A painting that looks far too mature for a flat that belongs to two young adults. The frame is small, close to medium size, but still small. At least it covers the hole in the wall behind it.

There is nothing to dislike about Anja’s friends. The flat smells like cigarettes and beer. Playing cards are discarded on top of various surfaces. Generally, it’s noise. Sounds with no meaning being exchanged between people clinging to various degrees of alcoholic intoxication. These people and this situation is the reason why Phil’s not a recluse by now. Still, for whatever reason, Phil subconsciously takes the position of an observer rather than a participant. He mostly hopes that no one else notices.

Anja notices, of course. That’s what she usually says when everyone’s gone, anyway. Phil wonders whether it’s a conclusion she comes to after Phil’s locked himself in his bedroom or if she knows when it happens. Regardless, Phil’s introverted disposition creates no issue to anyone but himself. He thinks of this when he feels Anja’s gaze on him after he’s been quiet for a while. If anything, her fussing at least suggests some truth to the lie that she’s Phil’s older sister. That’s what older sisters do, Phil thinks. Fuss.

Lies aren’t exactly fun, but they’re better than the onslaught of questions a guy and a girl that live together platonically would have to answer if people knew the truth. Anja is the one that insisted on it. Phil’s seen her kiss enough girls to have an idea as to why. Sometimes, he wonders about how it would feel to be kissed by her. Phil hasn’t been kissed by anyone for a long time, but oftentimes just the thought of it turns him on enough to begin stroking his cock until he comes. As much as he tries to stick to the thought of Anja it always passes. It always passes, and is replaced by something worse than the attempt to objectify a person he's known long enough to consider family. Since he realised that this wasn’t considered ordinary, Phil has reasoned that as long as the thought stays in his head, it can’t be that bad. So the thought stays in his head.

Phil glances at the bird painting and wonders how the artist would feel, knowing their work is only displayed to cover up a mysterious indentation on a poorly constructed wall in a frail building.

“We could play one of Phil’s records.”

Phil doesn’t get to keep observing. Anja is standing next to the record player, rummaging through the box containing Phil’s sparse collection of records. There are eyes on him now. The two guys that Phil has hardly ever talked to and the two girls, both of whom Phil has caught Anja kissing when no one else was around.

There are secrets in this room, and as Anja pulls one of Phil’s records out of the box, it feels like one in particular is being revealed.

“What about this one?” Anja asks.

“You listen to that?” one of the guys, Stephen, asks.

He’s got dark brown hair and an Iron Maiden T-shirt on. Phil doesn’t want to fold in on himself but he’s sat hugging around his shins while his chin rests on top of one knee.

With a shrug, Phil responds. “It’s alright.”

“Bit queer, isn’t it?” Stephen’s friend Jim grins.

The girls roll their eyes. The humiliation digs into Phil’s spine.

“Fuck off,” Anja says. They shrink beneath her pointed tone. “It’s far more queer to believe in that kind of gossip.”

Phil lets out a chuckle. Morrissey’s voice fills the room as Anja puts the record on.

It’s easy to filter out the debate of what’s queerer when Phil can focus on the music. He may still be an observer on the outskirts of the social situation, but next to the sounds and lyrics that so deeply resonate with him, Phil doesn’t feel quite as alone.

-

Stephen and Jim leave to go to the local pub after a couple hours. One of the girls, Raz, leaves with them but promptly makes sure everyone knows that she’s _not_ going to any pub. The other girl, Vicky, stays.

Phil cleans up cans and empties the ashtray while Anja and Vicky speak quietly on the sofa. The TV is on, showing Bananarama performing a song on Top Of The Pops that Phil is starting to get sick of hearing, but the girls aren’t paying attention to it at all.

Phil isn’t one to hover. He is happy to live and let live. He has enough secrets and feelings of being outside of whatever the ‘inside’ of society is not to judge people just because they’re different.

Anja and Phil don’t talk about it, but Anja has never hidden this part of herself from him. It’s as if she knows, somehow. At first Phil had thought she simply was an incredibly brave and open person just as she is, but then he realised that she does hide. She hides from everyone, except for Phil.

It still surprises Phil to glance back at the sofa to see Anja and Vicky kiss. Vicky is cupping the side of Anja’s face and playing with a strand of long black hair with her thumb as they go. Phil’s got a lump in his throat and a growing erection in his trousers. He can’t look at something this intimate without being affected by it. He feels like a voyeur, a pervert, and then he feels bad for thinking that because he wouldn’t have thought those words if Anja had been kissing a guy.

It’s all so confusing.

Phil stays frozen for a bit of time. He pretends to be busy. The washing up does have to be done. It’s Anja’s turn and Phil usually never washes up when it’s Anja’s turn. Still, Phil stays and scrubs the plates and cutlery until they’re squeaky clean, willing himself not to listen to the sounds of Anja’s and Vicky’s kissing. The only times he hears something loud and clear, is when the announcer at Top Of The Pops places The Smiths’ new single _What Difference Does It Make?_ at number thirty on the charts.

The TV turns off eventually, and Phil hears the girls stand up.

“Good night, Phil,” Anja calls.

Phil glances, but doesn’t look directly at them. They’re holding hands, on their way to Anja’s bedroom. Phil’s face is hot.

“Good night,” Phil responds, his voice coming out choked and odd sounding.

He stares down at the plate he’s been scrubbing for at least two minutes and waits until the door to Anja’s bedroom closes. He turns off the tap, puts the dish away to dry, and finally escapes to his own bedroom.

It isn’t much to look at. An unmade single bed, a window with no curtains, a desk, a wardrobe. He’s got various souvenirs placed on various surfaces from holidays with his family as decoration. There’s a wilting flower on his window pane, and a coffee stained rug on the floor.

Phil feels the humiliation wash over him as he closes the door behind himself. He wishes he was cooler. He wishes he could act older. Instead, he’s imprisoned by the insecurity that makes him feel embarrassed and turned on when two girls are kissing on his sofa. Phil doesn’t even attempt to convince himself that his reaction is just like any other bloke’s would be. His arousal isn’t due to him wanting to be with either of the girls. Instead, his arousal is urgent and demanding because of their attraction to one another - to their same sex attraction that’s so loud and clear and out in the open in a way that Phil never really sees elsewhere and before he knows it his trousers are off and he’s fisting his cock as he lies down on the bed and focuses on the primal urges that it elicited.

It’s after he comes that he wonders what the fuck this is about, really. Is he a type of pervert that gets off on it because of the taboo? That’s what he’s heard said about homosexuality recently, and in some way, it almost makes sense to think of it that way. Phil wipes his hands and stomach off with a paper towel and throws it in the bin next to his bed. But then, everything catches on the ‘almost’ because it’s not just sexual. He isn’t sure what else it could be, really, but he knows it’s more than that.

Before he goes to bed for the night, Phil puts his Morrissey poster he hid when the guests were coming around back on the wall above his bed. In this black and white photo, Morrissey’s wearing an open shirt and glasses, holding a dry bouquet of flowers against his chest. His skin is glistening with sweat. He’s firm and beautiful. Phil finds himself looking at the picture for a while before he finally turns off the light on his bedside table and makes himself comfortable beneath the covers. He falls asleep to the sound of Anja’s and Vicky’s soft moans on the other side of the wall.

-

The shy March sun is warming the world up as Phil walks from the library and to the independent record shop Martyn owns. They’re taking Martyn’s car to see their parents, just like they do every Thursday. And like every Thursday, Phil dreads the moment he opens the door because he never knows who will be working the cash. Out of the three employees, there’s only one he can’t handle seeing. The past few weeks he’s been lucky. Most Thursdays, Raz is the one standing there looking bored out of her mind. This Thursday, Phil isn’t as lucky.

The moment Phil opens the door and the bell chimes, his eyes are pulled to whoever is standing at the other end of the shop, and this time they land on the kind eyes Phil wants to run from. He doesn’t get to pretend like he didn’t see. He doesn’t get to hide behind the rows, looking at records while he waits for Martyn to finish up work. Like always, this person zeroes in on him the moment he steps inside and flashes a big, friendly smile his way.

“Phil!” Tom shouts, waving.

The charismatic, expressive face and the melodic tone of his voice on just that one word forces a smile out of Phil as he approaches him. Tom is wearing the hideous orange employee shirt with his own name tag on it and yet Phil finds himself staring. He stares at the toned muscles of his freckled arms and the stubble on his chin and the strawberry blonde hair and prays that he won’t embarrass himself this time.

Tom is different from the other friends Martyn had growing up. Actually, Tom is different from any friends Phil had growing up, too. He’s confident in a way that the others weren’t because he smiles and keeps eye contact and every word out of his mouth isn’t something to challenge Phil’s masculinity. Tom has always dared to be kind, and Phil has yet to grow out of the feelings that unusual kindness stirred up in him as a child.

If Phil’s nerves are noticeable, Tom doesn’t mention them. Immediately, he takes charge of the conversation because that’s what Tom does. He knows Phil can have trouble with these types of situations and he never makes fun of him for it. It doesn’t matter if this kindness comes from guilt. Regardless of the reason, Phil appreciates the effort.

He leans on his elbows against the counter as he listens to Tom’s latest horror story regarding the house he and his fiancée are renovating. Tom is only two years older than Phil but well on his way to a nuclear family life Phil doubts he’ll ever have himself. But then, if it was possible for Tom, why can’t it be for Phil?

“Hey, by the way,” Tom says, opening one of the drawers on the other side of the counter. “You like The Smiths, right?”

The topic changed so quickly that Phil has to laugh. It’s not funny, but Phil’s nervous. Tom’s gentle smile in return is too much for Phil to look at.

“Yeah,” Phil nods, because Tom isn’t the type of guy to call it queer to listen to their music. “How come?”

“Well,” Tom says, “I got two tickets to the show at Free Trade Hall that I can’t use. I already gave one of them away but if you don’t mind going alone?”

Phil looks at the ticket Tom picked up. His heart is starting to pound for a different reason than Tom’s presence. Phil has missed every opportunity he’s had to go to a The Smiths show even though he’s wanted to. Still, the issue that always stops him remains. Phil does mind going alone.

“I don’t know,” Phil says, quietly.

Something flashes behind Tom’s eyes then.

“Actually,” he says. “Maybe you wouldn’t have to go alone. I gave the other one to the new guy working here. He’s not from here so he doesn’t have any friends in Manchester yet.”

Phil immediately gets what Tom’s proposing. He stiffens, already overwhelmed by the idea of spending an evening with a stranger.

“He’s only eighteen,” Tom goes on. “And he’s cool. A bit weird, but cool. He reminds me of you a little. I’m sure you’d get on well.”

Tom looks so hopeful that Phil already knows he won’t be able to say no. And even if that wasn’t enough, Tom just described someone that reminds him of Phil as ‘cool’. That’s not something people use as a descriptor for Phil, ever. But Tom’s not like other blokes. He doesn’t care if Phil’s awkward. He never did. The fears melt away for a moment.

“Alright,” Phil says, taking the ticket from Tom’s hand. “I’ll go. Sure.”

He’s already regretting it for himself, but Tom looks so pleased with his compliance that Phil can’t stop himself from smiling.

“I’ll let him know, then,” Tom grins. “You could meet up here at seven on the thirteenth?”

Phil looks down at the ticket. The show is at eight pm on March thirteen, a week from now.

He nods. Before Tom has time to say more, Phil’s brother Martyn walks out from the back room, approaches them, and slaps Phil’s shoulder in greeting. Phil shrugs his hand away, feeling all the courage he built up wash away as he’s reduced to the younger brother role. He just lets Martyn speak over him, and Tom smiles and laughs at everything he’s got to say.

Before they leave, Tom ushers Phil over to give him something else. Phil takes the note, smiling his ‘thank you’ though he doesn’t know what for, and allows himself to melt, imagining Tom’s relief at Phil agreeing to his arrangement all the way to the passenger seat of Martyn’s car.

While Martyn talks about whatever is bothering him at work this time, Phil takes the note out of his pocket and unfolds it.

_Daniel Howell. Tall. Curly brown hair._

Underneath it, a telephone number is scribbled down, supposedly to this Daniel fellow. Phil might have just been forced to babysit a stranger a week from now but he’s filled with excitement despite it, knowing he’s doing Tom a favour. The note is nothing but Phil finds himself staring at it as if it’s something. These insignificant words grow significant because Tom wrote them down just for Phil to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Sheila Take A Bow by The Smiths


	2. Chapter 2

Phil's eyes are shut, clutching the telephone close to his ear. He twirls the cord around his index finger, breathing slowly, clearing his head. Visiting his parents with Martyn put a lot on his mind. The family in-jokes are often centred around Phil, because Phil’s the youngest. Phil is clumsy, and awkward, and has a difficult time focusing on one thing for too long. It’s not that he can’t take a joke. He’s probably better at taking a joke than a lot of people. Still, since the last visit, Phil has been carrying a stone in the pit of his stomach that has made every difficult thing feel even more difficult.

It reminded him of the TV interview with Morrissey he watched about a year ago. Because ever since, Phil has been dead sure that Morrissey wouldn’t like him if they met in real life. Not because Phil dislikes him, quite the opposite. Morrissey is confident enough to say what he thinks and question things out loud in a way that Phil never could. Not because he disagrees, but because he’s become so used to conforming to what’s acceptable for the better part of his life that the idea of acting naturally has become terrifying. It never brought him any good.

If they met in real life, Morrissey would probably think of Phil as privileged and spoiled. And that may be true in some sense, Phil thinks. That much he has realised due to how much his own family situation differs from Anja’s and her friends’. Phil just can’t help but think that everything else about him sort of overrides any of that other stuff. Because no matter how few issues Phil has when it comes to money, or how lucky he is that both of his parents are still in his life and in good health, he will never be normal.

But Morrissey wouldn’t see that part of him. Phil is the kind of coward that pushes all of the not-normal away in favour of getting any kind of approval. The stone that has made a home in the pit of his stomach is there because no matter how hard he tries to do that, it won’t ever be enough. He will always be the butt of the joke. He will never be able to do things quite like other people are able to do things. And yet he knows that one of the people he looks up to the most would judge him for his willingness to conform; for his cowardice. Phil can’t win.

“Hello?”

Just as the person on the other end picks up the call, Anja’s bedroom door slams. Phil jumps, eyes shooting open. The cord around his finger gets pulled tight enough by the movement that it hurts. The bird painting’s frame on the wall opposite of the window shakes until it hangs sideways.

“ _Bloody fuck!_ ” Phil yells before any impulse control sets in.

He glares behind himself, where he’s sat by the window in the living room. It’s Vicky. She’s storming out and Anja is following her, pleading. Phil stares at the scene, mouth hanging open, his exclaim going unnoticed or at least ignored by both of the girls.

“Excuse me?” says the voice in Phil’s ear. “Who is this?”

Phil’s focus is pulled in ten different directions and settles into a wave of anxiety that feels out of his control.

“Sorry!” he says, still trying to glance at the girls and make sense of the scene that’s happening by the front door. “I’ve had a terrible cough as of late.”

There’s a laugh in his ear that Phil can hardly acknowledge.

“That wasn’t a cough,” the voice says.

“Yes it was,” Phil says distractedly, watching Anja take Vicky’s hand.

“No, you said _’bloody fuck’_.”

The girls walk out the door. Phil stands up. Not that he can actually follow them outside. He sits back down, feeling chained to this telephone call that he can’t pay attention to.

“I didn’t,” Phil says, trying to sound shocked. “That’s---”

“You fucking liar,” the voice says, but it sounds like it’s said around a smile. “Who is this?”

“A fucking liar, I believe is what you called me,” Phil says before he thinks better of it.

“Alright, fair,” the voice says, followed by an adorable little giggle.

“Uh, I’m looking for Daniel Howell?” Phil says. Just then, he sees Vicky and Anja down on the street outside his window. He can’t tell how either of them is feeling, or what their dynamic is like. They’re just walking quickly, side by side.

“Speaking,” the voice, Daniel Howell, says. “You can call me Dan.”

“Okay, uh, I’m Phil-”

“Phil! Martyn’s brother, right?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. “So we’re going to the show tomorrow, yeah? Unless you can’t?”

Part of Phil hopes to God that Dan will cancel on him.

“Yeah!” There’s excitement in Dan’s voice. “I can’t wait!”

Anja and Vicky are out of sight. Phil groans internally.

“Yeah,” he says, hardly aware of what he’s agreeing to.

There’s a beat of silence.

“You sound like loads of fun,” Dan comments. “But yeah, Tom said you’re a big fan so I’m sure you won’t mind babysitting me for the evening.”

“Babysitting?” Phil asks. He’s surprised because that’s exactly what he’s thought of this situation, but never said out loud.

“Tom’s scared that a dainty little boy like me is going to be taken advantage of,” Dan says in a childish voice, followed by another laugh.

Phil doesn’t know how to react to that. He hasn’t actually focused on this conversation up until now, and trying to make sense of any of it only results in him feeling absolutely humiliated. All he knows is that he’s never heard a guy refer to themselves as ‘dainty’ with such ease before. Some version of jealousy makes its way into Phil’s discomfort as well.

“By who?” Phil asks, stupidly. “Do you look like a girl?” he adds, even more stupidly.

There’s an amused hum from Dan in response.

“Okay, now I’m starting to think you’re the one I should be worried about,” Dan says.

Phil’s dumb mouth snaps shut. A wave of fear crashes over him, so fully that Phil has to clench his jaw not to make a noise as tears prickle in his eyes.

“No you don’t,” he says. His voice is loud, angry, put on to keep it from trembling.

Silence.

Phil can’t bear it.

“I have to go,” he says, still as loud. “See you tomorrow at seven?”

“Okay,” Dan says. Quiet. Void of amusement.

If Phil didn’t know better, he’d think Dan sounded scared.

“Bye.”

Phil hangs up and takes a deep breath that fails to fill his lungs. At that, something moves in his peripheral vision. He turns his head to Anja, standing on the other side of the room, shoulders slumped and cheeks streaked with mascara tears.

They regard one another silently. Phil feels exactly like Anja looks, right now.

He gets up, approaches her, and lets her step into his arms. They hold each other in silence. Phil rests his chin on top of her head and envelops her fully, wishing his arms could be enough to shield her from this frightening world they’ve both been forced to exist and hide within. 

They spend some time on the sofa. The Smiths’ record plays in the background as Phil lies on his back, Anja glued to his side, resting her cheek on his chest. He combs his fingers through her tangled black hair and decides to forget his conversation with Dan. Whatever Anja is going through and unwilling to talk about right now is more important than a weirdly forward stranger. 

Eventually, Anja speaks.

“I wish I could fall in love with you and you could fall in love with me.”

The movement of Phil’s hand stops. Anja looks up at him. Phil’s heart is pounding madly inside his chest. The bird painting is still slanted. He wonders how much more it will take before it falls to the floor and breaks.

Can’t he fall in love with Anja? When it’s so easy for them to lie like this, together? Comfortably, her body against his, in a way that feels so precious and reassuring. There is no one else that touches Phil like this. Phil’s not sure if he’d be okay with anyone else doing so. Regardless of whatever fire and passion romance is described as, maybe this is just that; romance. Maybe Phil just got it all wrong. Maybe love simply feels like this.

It sounds rational enough. Phil could even pretend that it’s true. His heart aches, wishing desperately that it was.

Anja looks at Phil’s lips. They could pretend that it’s true. Then Anja looks up into his eyes.

“We’re friends,” Phil says. “That’s the only reason I wouldn’t-”

Anja tilts her head to the side. She looks away, at Phil’s chest, the corners of her lips tugging downwards in disappointment. Phil wonders if that disappointment is due to her believing that Phil isn’t like her or if it’s because he won’t admit to it and have a conversation about it.

“Yeah,” Anja says. “Me too.”

They share a look that makes the stone in the pit of Phil’s stomach nestle deeper, harsher, until it hurts. He has no response to that. Anja stays silent, putting her cheek back down on Phil’s chest, as they listen to the rest of the songs as they play.

-

Phil doesn’t know what is going on all day. Work at the library passes in a blur as he struggles not to focus on everything he’s afraid of and nervous about. 

He’s nervous because he’s never been to a concert with a band that means this much to him before. He’s scared because he practically yelled at the stranger he’s going to see them with. He’s terrified because Anja knows things about him that Phil has decided to not know about himself. Even though she’s safe he can’t help but think that if it’s obvious to her, then who’s to say it’s not obvious to everyone else too?

The stone is too heavy.

Well, Phil always thinks it’s too heavy. Sometimes he thinks he’s on his last thread. Lately it’s been like the next little bit of pressure is going to send him off into lunacy, into something frantic and desperate. He doesn’t want to know ‘frantic’ or ‘desperate’; but he’s become well acquainted with those feelings, especially since he graduated from university a year ago. 

For now, those feelings are contained within himself. They’re only set loose in the privacy of his bedroom, where they get to bounce from wall to wall in a loop that looks like it won’t ever end. Dwelling in privacy works to an extent. Phil is only scared that they will actually become too heavy, and soon. He’s scared that the people in his life will have to get to know those emotions of his as well. The idea of that is enough for Phil to spiral.

He spends the last couple hours of his shift blurry eyed. He pretends to work more so than he actually works. He can’t focus enough to put away books in the correct order. Thankfully, it seems he’s in luck and the second work is over he slips out of the library unnoticed and hurries home, where he’s free to be as desperate and frantic as he feels.

After a quick meal, Phil ends up in bed with his headphones on and a The Smiths cassette in his Walkman. He usually listens to the whole thing from beginning to end, but today he’s fast forwarding through the first few songs on the A-side. He knows exactly which song he needs to hear.

_Punctured bicycle_   
_On a hillside desolate_   
_Will nature make a man of me yet?_

Phil isn’t one to listen to music solely for the lyrics. His interest in film has made him take a liking to soundtracks more so than records from contemporary musicians. It nearly makes him feel left out. Everyone else seems to know the lyrics to the latest Billy Joel song, or the latest Madonna single within days of their release, whereas Phil doesn’t grow familiar with either until he’s heard them second hand after Anja’s had them on the record player enough times. He doesn’t dislike the songs per se, he’s just not so interested in them that he needs to hear them all day.

The Smiths are a different experience. Ever since the release of their first album, which he picked up by chance at Martyn’s record shop because he wanted to buy something to show support, he’s been hooked. They’re not exactly a popular band, though they’re crawling their way up the charts recently. From what Phil can gather, most of the people that do know about them either love or hate them. And in Manchester, pretty much everyone knows about them. And so, pretty much everyone Phil knows hates them.

The lyrics didn’t really become prominent to Phil’s listening experience until about a dozen listens in, during an especially difficult night. He felt equal parts comforted and seen as he felt exposed and frightened by the bluntness of it all.

_A jumped-up pantry boy_   
_Who never knew his place_   
_He said, “return the ring”_   
_He knows so much about these things_   
_He knows so much about these things_

By the end of the song, Phil goes backwards to another track that compels him in the same way. The words resonate with him because they’re true to his experiences. In every part of his life, he has to hide parts of himself. He has to act his age, he has to fit in with Anja’s friends, he has to stop appearing fragile and sensitive. He has to make ordinary impressions because too many times in life, something he did or said or perhaps simply the nature of his existence has made him come off as abnormal. 

_I’m not the man you think I am_

There is a presence of ‘abnormal’ in nearly every person Phil knows. There is always some quirk to each individual, something to set them apart from the crowd. These things end up becoming Phil’s favourite parts of those people. Anja’s too loud and assertive for a girl. Tom’s too nice and sympathetic for a guy. Martyn’s too accommodating and friendly for an older brother; for a boss, as it were.

Phil’s ‘abnormal’ sets a different tone. The very basis for his person is a feeling of lingering unease. His reactions, the first thoughts that come to his mind are continuously proven different from everyone else’s. Phil reckons the world needs people like that. Innovators that take risks and change things up. But Phil isn’t confident enough to be that type of person. He doesn’t want to take any risks. But he stands no choice but to be that person. 

Time and time again, he’s suffered through the social punishments of his actions. He’s still a victim of the continued internalised suffering it caused. On the outskirts of every social situation he’s found some piece of solace from all of it. With an outside perspective, he can figure out what other people should mostly expect of him. Phil has to stay within these boundaries in order to survive. He has to lie and live a made up life.

_And what a terrible mess I’ve made of my life_   
_Oh, what a terrible mess I’ve made of my life_

Before he knows it, time has crawled all the way to half six and he has to get ready to meet a new person. He has to babysit at a gig that he will pretend doesn’t mean much to him, because letting on would mean a much too clear insight into his frantic, desperate mind. Phil gets out of bed, puts on his jeans and his denim jacket and ruffles a hand through his limp, mousy brown hair. He gets out the door, and prepares to live another evening of his ever-suffocating lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Pretty Girls make Graves by The Smiths


	3. Chapter 3

Phil is ten minutes early, and yet as he approaches Martyn’s record shop, there is a boy standing by the entrance who fits Tom’s description.

_Daniel Howell. Tall. Curly brown hair._

His hair is curly, alright. A complete mess, standing up and poking out. Phil wonders if he’s done it up that way on purpose or if his genes just happen to fit according to what’s in style. And he’s tall, taller than Phil thought he’d be, but as he walks closer he can tell that he’s shorter than himself. He can also see that, even though Dan is flipping through a magazine and listening to something on his Walkman, the small glimpse he gets of his face reveals his youth. He’s really just a child. A boy that’s new to Manchester and was somehow lucky enough to meet a guy like Tom who wouldn’t just let him out in the world on his own.

As Phil remembers their telephone conversation, the word ‘dainty’ comes to mind. Phil is only a couple metres away from him now. Dan is thin and his jeans and t-shirt are hanging over his hips and shoulders as if he’s a walking coat hanger, leaving the actual shape of his body completely up to imagination.

Phil isn’t about to imagine that, anyway. The very idea makes his heart pound painfully in his chest.

Eventually, Phil gathers enough courage to wave. Dan looks up and pulls his headphones down around his neck. Phil only finds confusion and beauty in that face. He steels himself in an attempt not to feel the weight of those thoughts. It doesn’t mean anything. Dan looks like something straight out of an issue of Vogue that Anja keeps leaving on the coffee table. Anyone would recognise that he’s good looking.

“Hi,” Phil says. “Dan?”

Dan’s lips stretch into what appears to be an honest smile. Phil isn’t sure he’s reading him correctly. The last time they spoke Dan sounded scared of him, after all.

“Yeah!” Dan says, nodding quickly. “You’re Phil. Hello.”

He sticks his hand out and Phil takes it, giving it an awkward and stiff shake. Despite being shorter, Dan’s hand is large enough to almost fully cover Phil’s. Phil pulls his hand back quickly. The pleasantry felt far too old for this guy’s presumed eighteen years.

“Right,” Phil says, weighing on his feet and pushing his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. “So we’re off, then? You hungry?”

Dan raises an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t start for another hour,” Phil shrugs. “And you’re so skinny my grandma would have you chained and force fed in her basement for about a month if she met you.”

Try as he might not to, Phil still says the weirdest fucking things. To a complete stranger. Not that this stranger matters, exactly, but still.

Dan barks a startling laugh. He’s actually gone red in the face with amusement.

“You should introduce us,” he says as he collects himself, again to Phil’s surprise. “That sounds amazing.”

“She is married, you know,” Phil shoots back.

Dan’s eyes are practically sparkling, his smile is so wide and his expression is so naively excited. Only now does Phil realise that Dan is wearing a The Smiths t-shirt. Yeah, Dan definitely seems to be just about everything that Phil isn’t. He’s so confident.

“Damnit,” Dan says with a smirk. “Or should I say ‘bloody fuck’? Was that what you said on the telephone?”

Phil goes bright red, but he laughs as he sticks to his dumb excuse. “Shut up! I had a cough!”

“Right,” Dan says as he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Now be a good babysitter and feed me, please?”

Phil stops himself from fully gawking at Dan. He’s mostly surprised at himself, feeling comfortable enough to speak openly to a stranger. To make those kinds of jokes. The sparkling in Dan’s eyes waver for a second when Phil doesn’t immediately respond.

“Or, you know, whatever,” he says with a shrug. If Phil didn’t know better he’d think Dan was acting bashful now, as he avoids looking Phil in the eye.

Phil feels suddenly desperate to get Dan’s confidence back. He wants to see that bright smile on his face again.

“Don’t you worry,” Phil says, waving his hand to get Dan to follow along as he begins walking. “I’ll be a good babysitter, alright.”

Dan grins, throwing him a sheepish glance. He has slumped in on himself a bit, shrinking beside Phil, letting him take the lead. For once in his life, Phil feels confident taking that position as it opens up for him. Dan is only a kid, after all, alone in this new life in this new city for whatever reason. From the sounds of it he doesn’t come from anywhere near here. His accent sounds like people do on TV, nothing like anyone else Phil knows. The least Phil can do is be friendly, and helpful, because everything about Dan asks to be guided and accepted. Phil knows what it feels like to need that from someone, from anyone.

“Cool,” Dan says.

He’s still smiling, as they walk side by side in silence. Phil counts that as success.

-

They are sitting side by side on a bench near the Free Trade Hall. There is already activity surrounding the area. A group of young people with teased hair drowned in hairspray wearing The Smiths t-shirts are talking and smoking. Their style is pretty similar to Dan’s, but at the same time, Phil thinks they look nothing like Dan. 

On the pavement in front of them stands a murder of crows. Every once in a while they croak, causing Phil to jump. He much prefers domestic birds, inside their cages, immortalised in an unimpressive painting. The crows wander ominously, trapping Phil inside their freedom.

Feeding Dan turned out to be more of an ordeal than Phil had anticipated. Like Morrissey, Dan’s a vegetarian. But you can’t mention the fact that Morrissey is a vegetarian, apparently. Not going by the glare Phil received when he made the comment. It didn’t faze him really. He met that glare with a smile and a shrug to his shoulders. Before he knew it, Dan’s glare softened into the smile that seems to come to him so naturally. Phil doesn’t think he’s been smiled at like that before. But then, Phil hasn’t really had any younger friends before. He’s not used to being looked up to rather than looked down on.

That’s what it feels like, anyway. Dan is a typical eighteen year old. He talks quickly whenever the topic of The Smiths comes up, but he slams his own mouth shut as soon as Phil responds, listening with a type of intrigue that Phil feels absolutely undeserving of. He won’t pretend that it doesn’t feel good, though. Dan has big, trusting brown eyes and Phil is no longer surprised by the idea that Dan going to a show like this on his own could be dangerous. He is pretty, naive, and trusting. Phil’s never really thought of a guy as ‘pretty’ before, but Dan could easily dress up like a girl and get away with it. A tall girl, maybe, but still a girl.

More than anything, it makes Phil feel protective of him. Phil finishes the sausage roll he might have bought mostly to spite Dan and glances over at him. Dan is currently tapping his feet and watching the crowd surrounding the building with interest, as he chews the last bite of his dull vegetarian sandwich.

“D’you wanna get closer?” Phil asks.

Dan immediately switches his focus and pours it over Phil. 

“What?” he asks. “You mean now?”

“Whenever you want,” Phil says. He makes his best attempt to keep sounding like Dan’s behaviour isn’t odd to him. “Or we could stay here. It’s all the same to me.”

Dan twists nervously. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and crosses his arms over his stomach, folding in on himself a little bit.

“This is okay,” Dan says. He puts his feet on the bench, heels digging into his upper thighs.

“You’re really only here because of the music, then?”

Dan makes a snorting sound. It makes Phil laugh. After hearing Dan’s rant on vegetarianism and watching the bubbly excitement for nearly an hour now it is absolutely no secret that Dan isn’t going to the show just to get pissed and start a fight.

“Yeah,” he says. “Isn’t that why you’re here too?”

Phil grins. “I’m the babysitter.”

He doesn’t know why lines like that just fall out of his mouth around Dan. He doesn’t feel confident so much as he recognises a lack of anxiety. Going by how much it’s weighed on him all day he thinks he should still be feeling it, or if not that he should at least feel exhausted by it. Phil isn’t tired. He isn’t scared. He is enjoying himself and talking almost freely. He always keeps a filter, but the one he keeps now is more for the sake of Dan’s comfort than it is for himself to look ordinary. Phil doesn’t care about being ordinary right now. He realises he’s being weird but it’s okay because it seems to put Dan at ease in some way.

Dan looks down at his own hands, getting that close-to-bashful look on his young face again. And once again, it stirs up a desire to protect him. Dan might not be much like Phil was at eighteen. Phil might not have been the type to move from his home town and become a vegetarian and go to shows and talk like Dan does. But there’s something else there beneath the surface that Phil can only interpret as reflective of that younger version of himself. Seeing it in Dan brings out a compassion in him that he never cared to give to himself before.

“But really,” Dan says, shifting slightly. “Tom said you liked them.”

It’s said in a secret tone. Dan is practically begging him to read between the lines.

One of the crows craws loudly. It takes flight, only getting a bit on the way before the rest of them follow suit. Phil manages to feel the tiniest bit more relaxed, no longer exposed to the anxious feelings he pretended they were the cause of.

“I do,” he says, and he still feels anxious. “I actually…” It’s so difficult to express this. Even though suppressing it before seemed like an ordeal, it’s something Phil’s grown used to. “Yeah. I like them a lot.”

It’s a nothing statement. It doesn’t reveal anything about Phil, at the end of the day. Still, Dan looks back at him as if he too is seeing something and finding compassion for it.

“Yeah,” Dan says. Phil can hear that he’s holding back a gigantic smile. “Me too.”

-

Seeing The Smiths in the flesh, on stage, is a trip. Morrissey walks out on stage with a gorgeous smile on his face. His shirt is tucked lazily into his tight jeans. The buttons are undone all the way down to his chest. The crowd is loud and overflowing with excitement the moment he mumbles a “hello” into the microphone and the first chords of _Hand In Glove_ start to play.

Normally, Phil is overwhelmed by as little as the noisy stir of a school class coming to the library during his shift. He’s got a well established dislike for situations that sound as much as this one does.

Phil feels none of that now. Instead, he manages to focus on the sound of the music. He finds that the noise of the crowd only adds to the experience. It enhances everything; the energy from the band members on stage and the feeling it elicits deep in Phil’s chest. Phil never thought of The Smiths’ music as something he would dance to, but then Dan pulls him by the wrist, deeper into the packed crowd and they begin to jump along to the beat. Everyone here is singing along. Phil turns to look at Dan’s face. He’s already sweating, and there’s a wild look in his eye that makes Phil’s chest go up in flames. Dan is singing along as if his life depends on it, with a passion that nearly matches Morrissey’s. When Dan glances back at him, Phil turns his head forward blindly, feeling caught and afraid. But then there’s a tug at his wrist. There’s a smile on Dan’s face when Phil looks back, a smile that outdoes every other smile Phil has seen from him for the past hour.

It doesn’t take long until Phil is singing along to the lyrics he’s memorised in secret.

_Hand in glove_   
_We can go wherever we please_   
_And everything depends upon_   
_How near you stand to me_

_And if the people stare_   
_Then the people stare_   
_Oh, I really don't know and I really don't care_

The fire in Phil’s chest nearly hurts. But he’s caught up in the moment, watching the movement on stage, feeling people bump into him and finding that he doesn’t mind at all. Every bit of stimulus turns into one thing, seeping into a space kept for treasured memories in Phil’s mind. Phil almost doesn’t feel it when there’s a tug at his wrist again. He hadn’t realised that Dan held on for the whole song.

When their eyes meet they sing along without missing a beat.

_For the good life is out there somewhere_   
_So stay on my arm, you little charmer_

Dan’s hand slides into Phil’s palm. Their fingers interlock. For a moment, the noise and the crowd fades away and all that exists is Dan’s big hand and smiling face. And in that moment Phil realises that the touch of Dan’s palm against his own feels more intimate than any kiss he’s shared with a girl at university.

He doesn’t even know this guy. He doesn’t even care about him, really. Phil has kissed girls before that he loved as much as he possibly could, and it still doesn’t measure up because it’s not the same thing. Phil has no idea what the ‘thing’ is supposed to be or how he would describe it, but its presence demands attention. Whether or not he’s ready to give it that attention again, Phil doesn’t know, but the ‘thing’ has no sympathy for that. It’s here and Phil refuses to look at it because it’s what he’s learned how to do.

Dan lets go of his hand after only one second of that pressure but Phil feels like a different person. He knows that he’s still singing along to _Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now_ and _Girl Afraid_ but he can’t make out any other details. His mind is focused on the pulse in the palm of his left hand. It pounds so viscerally Phil wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out his heart dropped down his arm and into his hand. It wouldn’t surprise him to know that he let Dan hold onto it with his juvenile, sweaty fingers because apparently, that’s all it takes.

The intensity of it fades eventually. Instead, a pure fascination grows within Phil. Keeping on the outskirts of social situations allows him to, even in moments of full immersion, take a step back to watch from a different point of view. From that perspective, this show is just a crowded room of young people screaming songs out of tune to the musicians on the stage. It’s a strange thing, but it’s a beautiful thing. Even as a cold observer, Phil realises that this matters. 

There is an unspoken camaraderie in this room that Phil would be afraid of any other evening. Tonight it comforts him. Tonight it tells him that what he felt when Dan’s palm touched his was real and pure and too important to push away. 

Phil won’t feel this for long but he enjoys it as long as it lasts. The lyrics no longer feel like a punch.

After the encore, when the show is well and truly over and done, Phil takes a hold of the side of Dan’s shirt and leads him outside. Dan may be brave enough to lead Phil by the wrist, but Phil is taking every precaution even after a night like this. Besides, Dan simply happened to be there. This wasn’t about him as a person at all. He’s too young and starry eyed for Phil to consider a friendship with him, anyway.

But once they’re outside, the chill of the night enveloping them finally, Phil still finds warmth in the laughter that practically bubbles out of Dan’s chest. Phil giggles along. He doesn’t really think. Dan walks and Phil follows, and then they’re at the side of the large brick building. They’re on their own and out of sight and it isn’t until now that Phil realises that he’s still holding on to Dan’s t-shirt. It’s sweaty and wrinkled. As Phil looks down, the jut of Dan’s hip bone is revealed, taut skin going into the softness of his stomach.

Everything is quiet. Phil knows that there are sounds around them still; sounds of people talking excitedly as they wait around for an autograph, sounds of bass-heavy music coming from the building. Phil exists in a vacuum away from that, where time stands still and his own hand on Dan’s shirt feels estranged from himself. He realises, then, that there is one sound he can make out. It’s the sound of heavy breathing. At first he thinks it’s only Dan, but it’s both of them. They’re standing in private, closer together than Phil allows himself to be with another guy anymore, trembling on the precipice of something they’re both afraid of and desperate for.

Phil looks up into Dan’s eyes and reality crashes down on him.

What the fuck is he doing?

He takes a step back. He doesn’t have to say a single word before Dan’s face falls. The hopefulness, the bubbly air between them, vanishes. The chill of the night turns frozen. 

Phil stares straight into the conflict in Dan’s eyes and decides, then. He decides that he’ll take charge here because he is older. He was the one that made things like this. God knows he’d take the liberty to do what Dan’s done tonight, if an older bloke had treated him the way Phil’s treated Dan tonight. The least Phil can do now is give him the courtesy of an excuse, of a way out.

“I’m tired,” Phil says and attempts a loopy smile. He’s not. He’s more alert than ever before. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He pushes Dan’s shoulder, to try to veil the close contact they’d shared as something masculine, a completely different way of letting out adrenaline. Dan’s expression is still painted by some devastation, and for a split second it wavers into something worse. Hands quickly cover Dan’s face and he stands eerily still, breathing slowly. 

Phil keeps his hold on Dan’s shoulder until he can’t anymore. His heart is pounding. Dan’s hands go down to hang by his sides, revealing a stoic tension. 

“Hey,” Phil says, gently, coaxing, absolutely fucking terrified. “You alright?”

Dan shakes his head. A humourless laugh escapes him. “Yeah.”

Phil pushes his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s good.” Phil even manages a fake laugh. “That show was insane. I feel like my head’s not on straight.”

It’s so fake. Phil is used to these sorts of cover-ups, but using them on Dan makes them come out awkward and strange sounding. The truth still feels present. The moment from before is lingering tight in Phil’s stomach. He can see it in the effort Dan is putting in to keep that composed, calm look on his face.

Dan opens his mouth, then closes it. Phil is going to panic. It’s like a gut punch - hard hitting, taking his breath away - as he silently begs Dan not to say it out loud.

But Dan tries to say it out loud.

“I’m not--” he begins.

“I know,” Phil interjects. Quick. Aggressive. His mouth tastes like bile and lies. 

Dan looks scared by the force of the words. Phil doesn’t want Dan to be scared.

“I know,” he says again. Calm. Collected. Steadily looking at Dan’s face to show him that he means it.

Some of the tension in Dan’s jaw is released as he smiles. The punched-gut feeling in Phil’s stomach disappears.

It’s so easy to let go of what this feels like when he’s focusing on how it’s making Dan feel. Phil shifts his weight from foot to foot and then nods his head to the side, urging Dan to follow his lead.

“I’ll walk you home,” he says. He shrugs out of his jacket and hands it to Dan. “Here, take this. You look like you’re freezing.”

Dan takes the jacket and puts it on. It’s a bit big over his shoulders, but otherwise it suits him just fine. His smile grows with sincerity.

“Thanks,” he says.

They walk away from the Free Trade Hall in silence until Dan starts talking about the show. The end of the night fades away in Dan’s excited words. Like the flip of a switch it’s defined by the music they danced to and sung along with instead of what happened after. Phil pokes fun at Dan’s blabbering while Dan insists on making every single thought out point he was able to conjure during the show. Meanwhile, Phil’s nearly forgotten what actually happened and can only look back on in terms of the feeling of the crowd, and the emotion in his chest. 

Phil leaves Dan at his building and makes his way home. They don’t live far apart, thankfully. Phil manages to keep himself from thinking a single thought before he makes his way inside his and Anja’s flat and passes out on top of his bed in blissful, devastating solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song** : Hand In Glove by The Smiths


	4. Chapter 4

Whatever emotional horror show Phil expected to wake up to doesn’t come when the sun’s glare bites his face into consciousness the next morning. Instead, he feels oddly proud.

Last night made him realise that the chaos inside of him may not be as frantic or as desperate as he thought it was. No, last night proved to Phil that he’s got whatever this is under control. He stepped back and refused to give in to what’s been haunting him. Phil breathes a sigh of relief, getting out of the bath, until he realises that he overslept and is extremely late for work.

The thrill of knowing he’s capable of resisting puts him in a good mood for two whole days until it wears off. It’s a Thursday. Phil’s on his way to Martyn’s work to wait for him to finish up and drive the two of them to their parents’ house. Phil is filled by his usual fears when he stalls by the door. Although this time, it’s not due to its usual subject, the one with strawberry blonde hair and defined biceps. No, Phil is afraid today because there’s a risk he will run into Dan in the shop. He works there, after all.

The fear Phil’s gotten used to takes over when his mind starts to roll out scenarios, each one more terrifying than the next. They all force Phil to come to one conclusion. He doesn’t really know Dan. They both like The Smiths, they have an easy time joking around, and Dan definitely has some quality to him that reminds Phil of a younger version of himself. But outside of that, Phil knows nothing about him. For all he knows the moment they had was a deliberate move. Tom could have sent Dan out to find out the truth once and for all. Phil has no reason to trust Dan, after all.

He resisted, yes, but…

There was that second then. The moment that Phil realised he was still holding on to Dan by the shirt, and they were both breathing heavily, and he took in the view Dan’s exposed hip bone and stomach that Phil is having an extremely difficult time erasing from his memory because each time it comes to mind it makes him-

No. 

Anger takes a hold of Phil and he refuses to let himself elaborate on those thoughts besides that: _No_. He was feeling good about himself and he’s going to keep feeling that. Fuck anyone that would try to take that from him. Fuck Dan, or at least, fuck the made up evil Dan that Phil is currently pouring all of his frustrations onto. He swings the door open with force and stomps inside like he’s ready to shout at someone, anyone.

Looking around the shop, Dan is nowhere to be seen.

“Phil!”

Phil’s head snaps towards the source of the sound, from the other side of the shop behind the cash.

It’s Tom and his bright friendly smile. Phil approaches him, clinging desperately to the angry voice in his head that refuses to let him feel abnormal feelings again. Phil looks at Tom’s arms and his defined muscles. His resistance wavers.

“Hi,” Phil says, leaning his elbow on the counter.

He ducks his head, avoiding the kindness he knows he will find in Tom’s eyes.

“Alright?” Tom asks.

Phil’s eyes squeeze shut as the tone of Tom’s voice calls to another memory Phil thought he’d pushed all the way out of his mind by now. He hasn’t thought of it for years. With a pounding heart, Phil nods slowly.

“Tired from work,” he shrugs.

He can’t even smile. For every second passing, he is reminded that no matter what he resists about all of this, it is as stuck inside his brain as it was during the horrifying second of ‘almost’ the other night.

“Yeah, me too,” Tom offers.

Silence drops over them like a soggy blanket. Phil doesn’t want to break it all the same. He will take the soggy blanket because that’s what life has offered him so far. Who is he to wish for a dry, fluffy, warm, flower fresh one that he can burrow his head into and wrap around himself without restriction? 

The wet, used-up, dirty one clings to his skin and makes him feel disgusting. But it’s what he knows. It’s what he’s supposed to like. Tom manages to like that, after all. He found the way there.

“Dan said he had a good time Tuesday night,” Tom says. 

He sounds so careful. Of course he’d be careful with Phil rather than macho and insulting. For right now, Phil really dislikes that odd part of Tom that makes him so gentle and accommodating of everyone around him. He can’t take it.

“Did he?” Phil asks, looking up at Tom. “Cool. Yeah. It was a good show.”

His voice sounds empty even to himself as he looks at Tom without seeing.

“I heard,” Tom says with a laugh. “Dan had a lot to say about it.”

The huff of laughter that’s breathed out of Phil takes him by surprise. He remembers Dan’s incessant talking. He said interesting things, but all compacted into one long string of words that never seemed to end, it didn’t have the same impact as it would have if he, say, took a moment to breathe and let someone else have a word.

“He said he liked hanging out with you, too,” Tom adds. The gentleness of his voice has faded a bit, probably spurred on by Phil’s laugh. “And- right! He said he’s still got your jacket!”

Phil stares up at Tom with now seeing eyes and he feels afraid.

“Could you ask him, uh,” Phil stutters. “Could you ask him to bring it here, then? I’ll just come ‘round and pick it up.”

Tom makes a face that Phil can’t read.

“His next shift isn’t until Monday,” he says. “I could call, but I’d feel bad making him come in during non work hours. You know?”

Phil forces himself not to release an exaggerated, childish sigh.

“But he lives right by,” Tom says. “He said you walked him to his building, so I take it you know where he lives, yeah? You should just stop by at some point.”

“Well I take it you know everything so, yeah, I could very well do that, _Tom_ ,” Phil snaps, sarcasm dripping from every word.

He shuts his mouth and feels a wave of humiliation overtake him. Martyn walks out the door the moment the shock settles over Tom and he breaks out in laughter.

“What the hell, Phil,” he says between wheezing breaths.

Martyn looks between the two of them. Phil wants to sink through the ground.

“What’s all this, then?” Martyn asks. He already looks so pleased with himself, only from sensing an opportunity to make fun of Phil.

Tom sighs shakily as he composes himself. He shakes his head and smiles at Phil in a secret, just-for-Phil way that makes Phil’s chest overflow with… something nice.

“Nothing,” Tom says, still looking at Phil. “Your brother’s funny, boss.”

As the opportunity to make fun of Phil falls out of Martyn’s grasp, Martyn raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Phil steels himself to be asked about this all the way to Mum and Dad’s house, but as they leave the record shop he finds that he feels a little bit better than he did when he entered it. He replays the smile that Tom reserved just for him in his head and when he does, everything feels okay. He feels capable of allowing himself to keep a bit of that ‘something nice’ for now.

-

On the other side of the kitchen window, a robin lands on the painted white birdhouse Dad and Martyn put together a few years ago. It explores the wooden roof before it takes flight again, this time to sit on the edge of the hole and look inside. Phil watches the tail feathers bob as the bird picks at the seeds inside.

“I got a new type recently,” Mum says, snipping a bit of hair on the back of Phil’s neck. She isn’t even looking at the bird. Somehow she just knows it caught Phil’s attention. “Deborah swore by it. Her budgies are mad for it, apparently.”

The memory of standing by a large bird cage in the older woman’s living room enters Phil’s mind. He was only a child then, and his interest for animals had taken a strong enough hold for him to visit the lady next door several times a week just to watch all the different types of birds coexist inside the cage. 

“She asks about you sometimes,” Mum says to Phil’s silence. “Well fond of you, still.”

Deborah always welcomed him with open arms. She was a queer kind of person to live on their street, in an upper middle class neighbourhood full of nuclear families. That’s what Phil’s opinion of her was at the time, anyway. Queer. He’d heard that word be used for her at home enough time for it to stick in his subconscious, despite preferring her company to that of the boys on the street.

“That’s nice,” Phil offers.

He’s not sure if he thinks that. Mum uses a soft brush to get the excess hair off the back of his neck and shoulders. The robin’s tail bobs.

“I feel sorry for her sometimes,” Mum sighs. “No children of her own.”

Phil’s stomach goes tight. Mum combs his hair.

“Turn.”

Phil dutifully turns around on the chair to look up at her. She puts the comb away and places her index and middle fingers gently on the back of Phil’s jaw, on either side, with a focused expression on her face as she assesses her work. Despite seeing her once a week, Phil still feels like a lot has changed between them since he moved away. He grew accustomed to her worried frown early in life. Nowadays Phil notices it more. He finds himself questioning it. He finds himself wondering why he, not Martyn, was kept under strict parental supervision all his life.

It’s not a question he wants to hear the answer to, though. So he doesn’t ask.

“That’ll do,” Mum says. She focuses on Phil’s eyes instead. The worried frown returns. “We can afford to get you to a proper barber, darling. You’re not a boy anymore. You’re long past outgrowing this cut.”

“You just cut it, though,” Phil quips. “My hair can’t grow that fast, can it?”

Mum’s worry turns into confusion and then laughter. She strokes Phil’s cheek and shakes her head with a giggle. She turns around, putting the scissors and comb aside before she grabs the broom that’s leaning against the wall.

“You know what I mean,” Mum says. She’s still got an amused smile on her face as she sweeps the hair on the floor into a neat little pile. “You’re a handsome young lad. You should make sure other people can see that.”

Phil gets up from the chair and puts it back in its spot by the kitchen table. He can’t imagine a worse scenario than being forced to talk to some gruff older man for the twenty minutes it takes to cut his hair. Stuck under a judgemental glare, trying desperately to live up to the maturity and masculinity he’s been compared to all his life. He’s never succeeded. Phil has yet to feel even remotely acquainted with the concept despite constantly being held to its standard.

“Sure, Mum,” Phil says. It’s what he always says.

Mum stops her sweeping. Broom still in hand, she looks up at him with a look she’s begun to regard him with in the past year. Phil wants to pretend he doesn’t know what it means. He wants to pretend like Mum is fine with him going over to the lady next door for a chat about birds rather than helping Dad and Martyn build her a new cage, the one which she ended up using to separate the birds that wouldn’t get along. 

Phil always knew he was viewed as strange, even by his family. His grandparents and Dad and brother never let him forget it. He managed to tolerate that treatment only due to his mother’s unwavering belief in and acceptance of him. Phil wants to pretend like that acceptance is still there. He hasn’t caught as much as a glimpse of it for a long time, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to survive without it. So when Mum looks at him in that new way, he turns his head towards the window. If he doesn’t see it, it doesn’t have to exist.

Another robin has joined the first one. Their tail feathers bob out of rhythm.

“Wouldn’t want to end up like Deborah, would you?” Mum asks.

She’s started sweeping the floor again. Phil’s vision goes out of focus as he concentrates on his fragile internal world, willing it to remain intact. He doesn’t want to talk back to his mum. He doesn’t want to reveal anything about himself. He wants any lingering faith in him to stay, so that he can use it as a comfort.

“I like Deborah,” Phil says, regardless of that.

He hears Mum approach him. A hand on his shoulder and his vision comes back into focus. Their eyes meet.

“She’s a nice lady,” Mum agrees with a half hearted smile. “But you don’t see any suitors coming ‘round her house, do you? She’s always alone.”

Phil wonders idly how Mum would know anything about that part of Deborah’s life.

“She’s got her birds,” Phil says. He’s being childish. He doesn’t even know why he’s defending Deborah in the first place.

“She does,” Mum agrees with a sigh. Phil hates the look in her eye, the one he’s having a difficult time convincing himself doesn’t mean what he thinks it means. “But she’s awfully lonely, isn’t she?”

Phil is about to respond, but he shuts his mouth. Mum smiles in approval.

When Phil turns back to look at the window again, the robins are gone.

-

Phil spends the following days thinking about two things. 

The first one is about making his way over to Dan’s flat and getting his jacket. Which is pretty unreasonable given that Phil should feel no apprehension about it because nothing between them is weird. 

The second thing is about making sense of whatever is happening between Anja and Vicky. That is proving difficult to do while not asking a single question and with everyone refusing to acknowledge that there’s anything going on.

All Phil knows is that Vicky visits most days, and every other time it seems to end on an argument. He also knows that his winter coat is getting too warm for the approaching spring. Phil almost considers buying a new one. The only thing stopping him from doing that is the fact that his parents would have to pay for it and Phil has no interest in adding fuel to the assumption that he’s a less capable adult than Martyn by telling them he lost his jacket.

Phil has no other choice but to go to Dan’s flat. He has no choice but to do it before Thursday, because he doesn’t want Tom to know there’s anything real that’s stopping Phil from picking it up. Well, he doesn’t want Tom to _think_ that, really, because there’s nothing to _know_. There’s not supposed to be anything to know.

Dan is just a kid. Even if Phil was ‘that way’, he wouldn’t like him like that. He has nothing to fear about any of this.

He tries to convince himself of that when he stands on the other side of the door to Dan’s flat after work on Monday. He is definitely stalling. He is definitely scared shitless, no matter how sound his reasoning is.

Phil knocks.

Then he knocks again.

After a third try with no response, he gives up. Relief floods his chest as it fills with a breath he’d been unable to let into it before. He turns, heading towards the stairs.

“Phil?”

Phil freezes. His heart pounds. His tongue dries out like a sponge in his mouth, upon seeing Dan make his way up the stairs on his long, gangly eighteen year old legs.

“Fucking hell,” Phil says on a laugh that he forces. “There you are!”

Dan’s grin dimples his cheeks. Phil can tell because Dan skips the last few steps and stands close while he gets his keys out of his backpack. He stays quiet, uncomfortably so, as he unlocks the front door. He gives Phil a sideways glance. Phil’s face flushes pink as he smiles back.

Dan holds the door open and gestures for Phil to make his way inside. Phil had planned for this to be a quick thing. He hadn’t planned to be invited inside as if he and Dan are mates or something. Dan follows him into the flat. They share a quiet smile before they both look away.

As the door closes behind him, Phil realises that he is well and truly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song** : Half A Person by The Smiths


	5. Chapter 5

Why the fuck is everything so awkward?

Dan isn’t an awkward guy. Not in the typical sense. Last week, Phil couldn’t get him to stop talking. Right now, he wouldn’t think to try.

This flat is even more run down than Phil and Anja’s is. It’s a studio, so Dan definitely lives alone. The wallpaper is coming off, the floor is filled with mysterious stains, and there is a hole at the bottom of a wall that is just begging for a mouse to inhabit it. Despite all of that, it doesn’t look too bad. The bed in the corner is neatly made. The open bookcase standing by the end of the bed is full of well-loved books with broken spines. Not only that, but they’re alphabetically organised. Phil had started to lose hope that humanity even realised that organising books was a thing after working at the library for a year, let alone that anyone did it at home unless they were old.

All the nice looking little details completely contradict Dan’s outward appearance of tattered clothes and messy hair. He doesn’t own a TV. The kitchen is small and cramped. Phil is almost scared to look at the toilet, given that his and Anja’s gets clogged almost every other week. Dan has made this run down flat look mostly habitable, and Phil is frankly impressed.

“I was only coming over to get my jacket,” Phil says. “Tom said you have it.”

Dan frowns at first, then his eyebrows shoot up in realisation.

“Oh!” he says. “Yeah, I left it at the shop today. Tom said you’d come pick it up.”

“No,” Phil says. “He insisted I go over here.”

Dan shakes his head. “Sorry, mate.”

Phil narrows his eyes at him. Dan narrows his eyes right back. Eventually, they both chuckle.

“I guess I’ll just head there, then,” Phil says as he pushes back his smile from growing larger. “I’ve got a key, so.”

“Oh.”

They share one second of eye contact before they both look away again. Phil doesn’t know why there’s laughter bubbling inside his stomach, wanting to get out. The nerves from before are gone, because Dan is just a kid and Phil doesn’t have to impress him, but there is another sort of tension inside this flat that’s trying to push flustered giggles out of him.

“Okay, so I’ll---,” Phil says, making the tiniest movement towards the front door.

“Do you want to--,” Dan says at the same time.

Phil is thankful to get a reason to release some of those flustered giggles, as he looks at Dan who laughs just the same. Phil nods at him, allowing him to go first.

“I was about to cook,” Dan says. “I was wondering if you wanted any?”

This boy is eighteen years old and he not only keeps his flat neat and organised, but he cooks too. Meanwhile, Phil can’t remember the last time he did the dishes before the sink literally couldn’t fit any more.

Phil is so taken aback by the request that he can’t come up with a reasonable excuse to bolt.

“Sure,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Alright,” Dan says, twisting awkwardly. “I guess, go ahead and sit down, or whatever? I’ll put on some music.”

The politeness reminds Phil of when they first met, when Dan shook his hand as greeting. He almost wants to laugh, but he isn’t about to make Dan feel bad about all of this. Even though it’s unusual, if not unheard of, it is kind of nice. Still, it is strange to sit down on a clean armchair next to the window and be able to see clearly through the glass.

Dan puts a cassette in the stereo on the bedside table. As The Smiths’ _Reel Around The Fountain_ starts to play, Dan grabs a frying pan from the cupboard in the small kitchen right in front of where Phil is sitting.

The music offers a nice break from the flustered tension. On the other side of the window, a seagull has landed on the top of a street lamp. With a squawk, it takes towards the darkening sky. Phil listens to Dan hum along to the music and settles back in the chair, enveloped by a peculiar feeling of comfort.

-

They’re having omelettes. Dan is sitting on the bed while Phil sits on the armchair. Dan doesn’t own a sofa, or any place for people to sit together apart from the bed. Phil finds himself getting lost in staring at the empty spot next to Dan. Imagined scenarios of himself sitting down there, of his shoulder brushing against Dan’s, of their eyes meeting and filling with that same electricity they almost gave into last week, pass through his mind.

Phil wolfs down the food to distract himself. It doesn’t taste amazing, but Dan did a decent job of cooking it. It’s much more than Phil would’ve been able to make, that’s for sure.

For right now, the silence is mostly filled by Dan, who’s going on about how much he’s had to work in order to find vegetarian ingredients that aren’t too expensive. Phil almost snorts water out of his nose when Dan tells him that he’s probably made up of eighty percent beans at this point.

It’s easy to laugh with Dan. Once the meal is over, Phil doesn’t even consider leaving. They’re too wrapped up in talking about an interview they’d both watched where Morrissey had been talking about what it was like for him to grow up in Manchester.

“You’re from here, right?” Dan asks.

He’s lying down on the bed now, pillows propped up to support his upper back. Phil has sort of folded in on himself in the armchair. He drinks in the sight of Dan’s slim body, relaxed and inviting. He is once again managing a dual focus. One part of him focuses on reality, while another part focuses on the vivid mental image of himself straddling Dan on top of the bed and smoothing his hands over his chest.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “Well, from Rawtenstall. But it’s fairly close. Went to university here so it made sense to stay.”

Dan’s eyebrows twitch.

“University?” he asks.

Phil’s cheeks go pink as he nods, fighting a nervous smile. He kind of hates bringing that up, but his dual focus doesn’t allow for him to consider his words with much care. Dan’s frown smooths out and he nods, then. He reminds Phil of Tom, a little bit. He doesn’t push what others would have. Phil knows so many people that, when they notice that Phil’s getting uncomfortable, would rather make it worse for their own amusement.

“You haven’t asked me about where I’m from,” Dan says then, as a change of topic.

In Phil’s imagination, he’s grinding down against Dan’s crotch. He has to shift slightly where he’s sat as he wills his erection to go down.

“Well, you’re obviously not from here,” Phil says. “ And I figured everyone asks you about that. Or makes fun of your accent. That stuff can get kind of old.”

Silence stretches between them as Dan stares at Phil. Before now, Phil hadn’t realised just how much of the conversation Dan had been carrying.

“Yeah,” Dan says. “It can, actually.”

Phil’s heart pounds harder. He feels embarrassed to be on the receiving end of Dan’s sudden surprise and gratitude. He didn’t even do anything, but Dan is looking at him like he’s some kind of saint.

“But,” Phil shrugs, willing himself not to twist uncomfortably, “you know. I still kind of want to know.”

Dan grins.

“Wokingham, close to Reading,” he says. “The absolute most horrific place to live. I’m never going back.”

The humour in Dan’s eyes fades. Something earnest tugs at his facial muscles, making him frown.

“Never?” Phil asks, quietly.

Dan meets his gaze. For a moment, Phil can make out some pain behind his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know,” Dan shrugs, looking away. “Maybe. It’s not that big a deal. I don’t think anyone wants me back, anyway.”

Phil has a hard time thinking of a reason why the parents of such an independent, intelligent person wouldn’t want to see their own son. Well, he can think of one. Not that he’s sure Dan’s like that, of course. For all Phil knows, what happened after the show was just on his end.

“Oh,” Phil says. “Sorry.”

Dan lets out a flustered laugh as he shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

Normally, if someone spoke to Phil with that tone, he would step back. He would be kicking and screaming on the inside, bound by the ropes of anxiety, punishing himself for making another person feel vulnerable and uncomfortable.

Right now, Phil doesn’t feel that. Instead, he’s looking at Dan from a new perspective that shows so much more of him. He doesn’t pity him, he just feels bad for him. He wonders if Dan has anyone to talk to about all of this. He wonders if Dan is completely alone in the world. The idea of that hurts. It overrides any anxiety. It turns into compassion, a desire to help.

“I know,” Phil says. He gives Dan a long look. “I can tell you’re managing fine without them. Great, actually. Better than I could.”

Dan finally meets his eye. The quiet resentment, the will to justify himself and appear strong, fades from Phil’s view.

“Thanks,” Dan mumbles.

It’s so open. Phil can read the emotions so clearly they might as well be written on Dan’s forehead. But they’re both still caught in apprehension. Phil’s not going to force Dan to tell him anything. Still, Phil can’t stand to see the sadness in Dan’s eyes. If he can do anything to wipe it away, he’s going to at least try.

“Hey,” Phil says, smiling gently. He puts his feet back on the ground and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re okay, yeah?”

Dan’s mouth goes tight but he nods. For a second, his eyes flicker down to look at Phil’s lips and part of Phil suddenly urges him to go sit down next to Dan on the bed, just to see what would happen. Phil resists.

“Thanks for dinner,” he says. He glances at the clock in the book case. It’s almost nine o’clock. “Um. I guess I should be…”

He stops himself, caught off guard by the way Dan’s fighting to keep his face from crumbling. It takes a keen eye to make out the revealing details. All it is, is that tightly locked jaw and those flaring nostrils as Dan forces himself to breathe deeply. That, and the way his hands are locked together, fingers red by how tightly he’s holding himself together. Phil can only tell because he’s been that person before. Too many times has he been fighting a storm inside, while forced to play it cool in front of everyone else.

Dan stands up quickly. “Yeah,” he says in a hoarse voice. “Of course. No problem, mate.”

Phil gets up from the chair and approaches Dan slowly. Dan’s hands have curled into fists so tight the knuckles have gone white. He looks almost intimidating, to anyone else. Aggressive, like he’s used to pushing away anyone that might get too close. All Phil can see is fear, and sadness. Whatever is going on inside Dan’s head, Phil feels responsible for it. It must’ve been something he said, something that dredged up difficult thoughts or memories.

Now that they’re face to face, Phil doesn’t know what to do. The tense silence is excruciating, and Phil might feel braver with Dan, but he’s not completely fearless.

“So, I guess--,” Dan says, gesturing vaguely towards the door.

“Dan,” Phil says.

Dan looks up at him and there’s something desperate now, making its way into the struggling smile on his lips.

“Come here,” Phil whispers. He’s terrified, but he opens his arms.

There’s no hesitation. Dan steps right into Phil’s space and Phil wraps his arms around him. He curls one hand around Dan’s waist and places the other gingerly on the back of his head, as Dan tucks his chin over Phil’s shoulder.

Phil’s been terrified of ending up in a situation like this, but now that he’s here, it isn’t scary. The tension is gone and Dan’s arms wrap tentatively around Phil’s waist. They stand in silence, holding each other, and it isn’t just about Phil offering comfort to Dan. It feels entirely different from when he hugs Anja like this. It _is_ entirely different. The warmth that Phil finds in her arms doesn’t turn into heat like this is. Phil doesn’t go completely out of breath when it’s Anja in his arms.

Dan is the one that steps away first. Long breaths come from both of them as they share a look that Phil wants to tear himself away from but can’t. A strange combination of hope and dread mixes into a nauseating feeling in the pit of Phil’s stomach. Dan’s face is way too open, too honest about where this could lead if both of them let go of everything that’s holding them back.

But Phil can’t.

Phil can’t let go. 

It’s all catching up to him now. The look on his mum’s face, the one he wants to pretend doesn’t exist. The kindness that Tom always offers but ends up feeling like a gut punch. The unspoken truth between Phil and Anja, that’s so obvious it’s ridiculous they haven’t said the words yet. And lastly, the unshakeable feeling that if he gives in to this, it’s over. He doesn’t get a shot at normal, after all. And despite everything Phil might feel and hope in the privacy of his own mind, the idea of that is devastating. It’s devastating enough that it has the power to make Phil step back, once again resigning himself to be the person that takes charge of these situations and prevents them from going any further. Phil would have needed that at one point in his life, himself.

This time, it isn’t quite the same relief as it was last week. This time, Phil doesn’t feel happy about it. He’s only confused, and sad, and hurt by the deep seated revulsion he holds for this part of himself.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” Dan says.

Phil swallows. Despite everything, he can tell that Dan means that.

“Oh.” Phil manages a forced smile. “No worries. Any time.”

He’s opening himself up to more situations like this one and he already regrets it. But then something sparkles in Dan’s young eyes and Phil’s smile becomes real. And Dan smiles back at him. And something about this moment feels so precious. So naive and so meaningful. Phil’s heart aches.

“Guess I’ll see you around?” Dan says as they go to the front door.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “I’ll swing by the record shop and grab my jacket.”

Dan chuckles. “Right.”

Phil doesn’t want to leave. He reaches out and squeezes Dan’s slender shoulder.

“Okay,” Phil says, steadying his breath, taking in the look of trusting innocence on Dan’s face and memorising it. “See you.”

He turns, unlocks the door, and steps outside.

“See you,” Dan says.

Phil hurries down the stairs. He doesn’t trust himself to look back. 

There’s an awful quiet at home. Phil’s head is full of thoughts he doesn’t want to think and it makes the world stand on edge. Even the dull inside of his own messy flat seems like something he should be afraid of.

As Phil kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards his room, something stops him midstep. He turns his head and looks at the slanted bird painting on the wall, at the mockery it presents. So close to falling off the nail. So close to smashing onto the ground. So close to revealing the crack in the wall that it’s meant to cover.

It makes Phil angry, the fact that just the slightest tremor would be enough to make that happen. It’s not fair.

Phil redirects his step and takes a hold of the sides of the frame. He could take it off and stop kidding himself. Even if it’s covered, that crack will always be there. Phil will always _know_ it’s there. He takes a breath, deciding. Then he sets it straight. He leaves it be. He holds on to the futile wish that somehow, it’ll stay that way without his intervention from this day forward. And then he goes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Sweet And Tender Hooligan by The Smiths


	6. Chapter 6

The suit is uncomfortable, but at least it looks good.

One good thing about having Martyn for a brother is that he’s the same size as Phil. So, when a wedding rolls around, Phil can essentially choose anything Martyn doesn’t like to wear anymore and not spend a penny.

Well, he did spend some money. The wedding present isn’t much, but he couldn’t ride Martyn’s coat tails for the whole thing, even if Tom probably wouldn’t mind.

He looks stunning today. So does his as-of-an-hour-ago-wife. Phil might be slightly wine drunk, leaning against Anja even before the party has even properly started.

It’s not a huge event by any means. A small selection of family and close friends. Anja came along as Phil’s plus one. It feels good to have her here. Every so often, Mum and Dad throw Phil and Martyn expectant looks, saying things without saying them. To think about the fact that he won’t ever be able to give them this is too much for the frail state of Phil’s mind over the past couple months since meeting Dan. If he was on the brink after graduating university, Dan barging into his life has him holding on to the edge by the fingernails, dangerously close to plunging into those unexplored depths.

Phil’s done his best to avoid him. It hasn’t been an easy feat, since they’re practically neighbours and Dan works for Phil’s brother. But somehow Phil has managed to put a distance between them that has, thankfully, taken the intensity out of seeing him for now. For now, they say ‘hi’ to each other if they happen to meet while Phil does his best to remove himself from the situation as quickly as possible. Still, they’re prone to laughing at stupid things for the brief conversations they do have. That sort of connection is rare. Phil’s not sure he’s ever experienced anything like it. Nevertheless, Phil pushes it out of his mind the moment the interaction is over. It’s easy to do, when he does it for Dan’s sake.

Tom and Linda are pouring themselves wine over by the buffet table. Phil’s tie feels tight and uncomfortable.

If only Tom didn’t look so good, Phil might have had a fair chance not having to fight the rush of feelings. Even worse, the wine seems to be hurting more than it’s helping. Inebriation is only allowing for those thoughts to push through Phil’s carefully constructed barriers and after a while his mind is flooded with them. He was supposed to drink to forget. This is quite the opposite.

For a short while, Phil does forget. Anja tugs at his arm and then he’s standing up, following her lead. They’re dancing because everyone is dancing, and right now there is nothing about them to truly set them apart from the rest of the guests. Martyn is dancing with his girlfriend, Tom is dancing with Linda. Boys and girls and boys and girls in droves seem to surround them and if Phil thinks about it too much it’s going to drive him fucking crazy.

He holds Anja by the waist when a slow song comes on. Anja’s arms wrap around his neck and suddenly they’re closer. Phil doesn’t want to look at Mum and Dad now but he can’t help it. Some sick, masochistic part of his mind wants to make his own fears come true.

Not surprisingly, Dad looks a little shocked, and Mum looks like she’s about to cry. She’s watching her sons with beautiful women on their arms, promising the future she’s talked about since Phil and Martyn were children. 

Regardless of the implications, having Anja this close to him in this moment is probably the only thing that keeps Phil from spiraling. Her thin bare arms feel so much stronger than they really are, holding him together right now. Phil takes a shuddering breath. He wants this slow song to go on forever.

“You alright?” Anja whispers in his ear.

She smells like wine and cheap perfume. Phil shakes his head.

“I hate this,” he admits.

Anja coos in his ear, but somehow it doesn’t sound patronising at all. Rather, it makes Phil want to cry into her neck while she keeps making soothing noises and strokes his hair.

“Me too, Phil,” she says. “Me too.”

“It’s so hard,” Phil says. He can’t stop talking, it seems.

“Do you need to leave?” Anja asks.

Phil is about to say yes. Because he wants to, desperately. He wants to be back at home on their dingy sofa, out of this suit and in his pyjamas. He wants to cry against Anja’s shoulder while she doesn’t ask a single question but understands all the same.

He doesn’t get to do that. Just then, his eyes lock with Tom’s, and Tom smiles. Phil is so dumbstruck he just smiles back. Then Tom nods to the side, indicating they should go off somewhere private, and the idea of going home shrinks in its appeal.

“No,” he says into Anja’s ear. “Hang on, are you alright being on your own for a bit?”

He pulls away to look at her face. She’s almost unrecognisable like this, with her hair pulled up in an elegant updo, lips and eyes painted to contrast her pale skin. But then she smiles, and the crooked teeth and the playfulness in her eyes make it not matter what she’s done with her appearance. It’s just so incredibly Anja, and that is the most comforting thing Phil knows.

“Sure,” she says. “There’s more wine, yeah?”

“Don’t overdo it,” Phil warns.

Anja chuckles. They step away from one another once the song ends.

“See you later,” Phil says, or promises, as his eyes flicker to Tom and Martyn, waiting for him by the buffet table.

Anja says it back but Phil barely hears it. His mind has zeroed in on Tom even if it means fuck all, just like always. 

It’s wild that Phil prefers this to being at home with Anja. He’s sitting quietly, nursing a pint, watching the lake before them glow in the moonlight. Martyn and Tom are talking rapidly. When they’re like this, there seems to be no end to the banter. Phil doesn’t actually know but he imagines that Martyn turns it up a gear when Phil’s around. It’s not about what Phil says, anyway. It’s about the fact that he’s sitting next to Tom on a small bench, and the fact that he can feel his movements against his side. And even if they weren’t sitting this close, Phil would have chosen Tom’s company any day of the week no matter what it entails. Because that’s just the way things have been ever since Phil was twelve.

It was so easy, at first.

Anything could be excused away as innocent admiration. Tom was a cool older bloke that wasn’t as aggressive and argumentative as his brother. The fact that Phil wanted to be around him even if Martyn wasn’t there was a surprise to no one. Phil isn’t sure exactly what he thought, during those first years, when puberty hit and he felt none of the things that his peers did. His memories are muddled. The only explanation he remembers his thirteen year old self giving for wanting to sit next to Tom on the sofa during movie nights while his cock got stiff from just the feeling of Tom’s breath against his cheek was that everyone must feel that way. No one _really_ likes girls. It’s just the way things are; you’re forced to marry a girl but everyone knows that there’s nothing more desirable than the idea of being with a man.

Phil puts his pint glass on the grass next to the bench and covers his face with his hands. He doesn’t think those thoughts. He can’t think those thoughts. It’s too hard. It means too much.

Tom nudges Phil’s shoulder with his own. “Alright?”

Why do people keep asking that?

Phil looks at him. Tom’s eyes are bright. His smile could kill. He looks exactly like he just married the love of his life. Phil didn’t even know one could look like that, but Tom really does. Tom really does, and Phil isn’t happy for him. Phil is sad, and angry, and frustrated.

Tom must see. Because he notices things, and he’s kind.

“Martyn,” Tom says. “Uh, could you go get the camera that’s in my bag?”

“What, like I’m some type of slave?” Martyn laughs. “Get your own bloody camera.”

“It’s my wedding day,” Tom shoots back. He sounds so smug that Phil kind of smiles, like he always does when Tom puts Martyn in his place.

Martyn grumbles. “Fine, then. Where is your bag?”

Tom pauses.

“I don’t remember,” he says. “Ask Linda.”

Martyn groans exaggeratedly. Phil’s hands shake, listening to him get up and leave. Tom shifts to the side so that they don’t sit quite as closely anymore.

“I miss my dad,” is the first thing he says once Martyn’s out of hearing distance.

It’s so quiet but the words still echo. Tom grabs Phil’s shaking hand and it stills.

Fuck. Phil actually gasps, feeling Tom link their fingers on his lap.

“Do you?” Phil asks.

He looks into Tom’s kind eyes. Tom doesn’t look fazed by any of this. The brightness in his eyes has gone down a notch, but it’s not because of pain. It’s just emotion. Because this doesn’t mean as much to Tom as it does to Phil.

The only thing Phil reminds Tom of is the fact that when Tom’s parents divorced, Tom’s dad chose the other family he’d been keeping a secret from Tom and his mum. If Tom’s dad hadn’t caught them kissing, he might have broken up with the other woman instead.

Phil tightens his grip on Tom’s hand.

“I don’t know, if I’m honest,” Tom says. “It feels like I should. It feels like I’m missing a dad I never had.”

Tom’s hand slips out of Phil’s. They sit quietly for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says.

“Don’t be,” Tom says. His voice sounds slightly choked. “I was the one that brought it up.”

If this were any other night, Phil would have dropped it by now. He’s not sure what it is about tonight that makes him push, but it’s something. Maybe it’s just been long enough. Maybe, Phil’s just angry enough.

“Well, I’m here,” he says. “Isn’t that ‘bringing it up’?”

Phil meets Tom’s stare once he can’t stand to feel it bore into his temple anymore. Of course, Tom isn’t angry. There’s compassion painted all over his face, and Phil fucking hates it.

“No,” Tom says, almost like a question. “That’s not--”

Phil lets out a wet breath as the emotions pour over inside his chest. He looks down, eyes squeezing shut. He can’t do this.

They’ve never actually talked about this. Not really, not for a long time. University was Phil’s solace from it. It was his shot at normal, just like Tom got a shot at normal when he met Linda.

It just never seemed to work like that for Phil.

Tom shifts closer. His hand creeps up Phil’s back, massaging over his shoulder and down, lower, then up again. It’s a familiar pattern. Phil swallows thickly. He still leans into it. He leans into the warmth of Tom’s side like when he was sixteen years old and too naive to question whether it was wise to show that part of himself, even if it was with someone that was the same way.

Tom isn’t actually the same as Phil. That’s the thing. That’s always been the thing.

“That’s not what you remind me of,” Tom whispers hurriedly. “That’s not it at all.”

“What is it, then?” Phil asks.

He sits up straighter, peering into Tom’s eyes. His own are wet with tears. Tom’s hand on his back stills.

“What’s what?” Tom asks gently. He’s still whispering. No one’s around and yet, his voice is so quiet one could think there were people trying to listen in. “When I see you I think about falling in love for the first time.”

Phil isn’t even holding himself together at this point. He’s just completely frozen. He can’t breathe. He can’t even move. His limbs feel so heavy.

It’s so easy for Tom. Talking about this doesn’t even affect him in the slightest. He looks at Phil like Phil’s feelings matter, but at the end of the day Tom is going to go home with his wife whom he loves in all the correct ways, and Phil is going to fall face first into bed with no way of escaping the abnormal that resides in him.

“Tom,” Phil barely manages to say.

Tom grabs the back of Phil’s neck. It’s gentle, but Phil can feel it all over his body.

“You know that it was real for me, too,” Tom says. “I told you that.”

Whatever they said at that time, Phil didn’t think it counted. Phil had immediately decided to pretend like he never felt anything real for Tom, when it was over. All these years later, Phil knows that that’s just another one of his own lies. But Phil can’t be the only liar here.

“And what, you just accept that?” Phil asks. Some of the heaviness lifts, and with it, he feels the nauseating pace of his own heart hammering inside his chest.

“Well, yeah,” Tom says, like it’s that easy. “Don’t you?”

“Why should I?” Phil asks. “What good would that do me?” His voice is louder, but he can’t find it in himself to lower it anymore. “It’s well easy for you, Tom. You could always just choose. Well, I can’t. I can’t just suddenly decide to marry a girl and know that it won’t make me miserable. So, no, I won’t accept it. If I did I’d just be asking for--”

Phil pauses. Tom looks at his lips. Nothing will happen. Nothing is ever going to happen again.

“I understand more than you think,” Tom says. “I really do. If you’re struggling with--”

Phil twists himself away, out of Tom’s hold. He stands up with a frantic rage. It feels like being choked, pushed, punched.

Phil swallows all of it in favour of turning around with a neutral expression, looking Tom dead in the eye.

“I’m happy for you,” Phil says. “I am. But, please. Don’t.”

Tom stands up. Right now, he looks so small. Not at all big enough to shoulder the responsibilities Phil put on him to deal with on his own. It helped Phil remove himself from the situation, thinking of Tom as older and wiser and so the person most fit to lead the progression of their relationship. It’s just the way Phil’s been acting with Dan, with that same sense of personal responsibility in mind. Only, Phil doesn’t want Dan to experience what Phil experienced with Tom. Tom went with what felt natural. In doing so, he introduced Phil to everything his ‘abnormal’ could be. Not just to the dreadful non conforming nature of it, but to the beauty of it. The beauty of falling for someone, of exploring those parts of themselves with no judgement. 

If only Phil had been allowed to keep internalising those feelings, it might have been easier for him to be normal now. Tom somehow figured it out, after all. He fell in love with a girl for real. Maybe Phil was too young. Maybe Tom got to him too early.

No matter, Phil won’t ever do that to another person. That beauty isn’t beautiful enough for a lifetime of pain. He can’t put Dan through that, while there’s still hope for him. It’s not worth it.

“Phil,” Tom says, helpless.

Just then, Martyn appears with an angry look on his face. Phil's heart pounds so painfully, just like it did when Tom and him were younger and Martyn was just in the other room.

“I couldn’t find a bloody camera,” Martyn barks at Tom, who finally looks away from Phil.

“I’ll help you,” Tom says, and then his smile returns like it always does. It’s always so easy for him.

It’s not easy for Phil. It never is. Phil is done. He rushes inside, past Martyn and Tom, desperate to find Anja as soon as possible. He can’t stay here for another second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** These Things Take Time by The Smiths


	7. Chapter 7

It turns out that crying on the sofa wasn’t an option. Once him and Anja arrived at home, Phil couldn’t feel at all. He was sobering up in more ways than one.

He fell asleep with his duvet wrapped tightly around himself, wearing nothing but pants. He aspired for some dreamless sleep. He wished desperately that when he woke up the next morning, his conversation with Tom would be erased. He would wake up in some alternative universe in which he felt stable in himself, in his identity, and not questioning everything about his life as soon as he got a moment alone.

None of that happens. Phil’s sleep is so full of dreams that it barely feels like sleep at all. His brain works overtime, pulling in all of the memories he’s tried to forget. A spotlight illuminates all of the darkest corners of his mind.

Everything blends together in the dream world. The dreams speed up the pace of the slow progression that was Phil and Tom’s pseudo relationship during most of Phil’s teen years. The tentative touches when they were alone, the ones that went from hand holding and thigh stroking to kisses and frotting, all mix into one big dream sequence.

The physical parts of everything took focus in the dream. It felt like being granted some type of subconscious mercy. The emotional parts overstayed their welcome a long time ago.

When Phil wakes up the next morning, he’s feeling confused and disoriented. The dreams were so real, so tangible. His cock is throbbing, trapped between his stomach and the bed. Phil rolls his hips slowly. He pushes his face into the pillow he’s got locked in a tight grip between his arms. The sensations rush through him and the distance Phil has kept from these thoughts closes, irrevocably. 

Phil’s fought them for long enough. The memory replays and it feels real. How Tom clung to him, trapped between the legs Phil wrapped around his waist. How they moved together in an awkward hurry, afraid and ecstatic. Wet, clumsy mouths found each other in search of something. How Tom’s mouth settled on his neck, littered it with kisses. 

Phil remembers how painfully hard he had been. He remembers how big Tom’s cock had felt against his own. He remembers that he worried that he might not be able to come because it was just that intense. He didn’t think he’d be able to let go of all of all that tension, of the surreal feeling that this was actually happening. He was afraid of what that would feel like. He’d managed to convince himself that it would be too much.

But Phil came with a soft moan, swallowed by Tom’s kiss. And he comes now, with a forceful groan bitten into the pillow in his arms.

It wasn’t too much then, and it isn’t too much now. It feels so good Phil fucks the mattress for a good few seconds longer, riding the wave of his mind blowing orgasm until it crashes against the shore. 

Phil turns his head to relieve his face from the suffocating warmth of the pillow. He keeps his eyes closed, letting the memory run its course. Because it holds so much more than sex, even if that part of it is important too. 

When Phil focuses, the details reveal themselves. Tom had been moaning the entire time and when he came he squeezed Phil’s hips, rocked against him. It was painfully erotic. Every single time they were intimate, Phil was fascinated by how much he loved becoming something that Tom could rut his cock against for as long as he pleased. Phil has been pushing his sexual thoughts and behaviours away for long enough now that thinking back on that time in his life, he’s shocked by how bold he used to be.

It keeps feeling good until Phil opens his eyes and finds himself on the other side of five years of repression. He feels estranged from this body and how it aches when everything that happened after catches up to it. Last night’s conversation unlocked everything and he won’t be able to push it back again.

Tom said Phil reminds him of falling in love for the first time. Despite how many times Tom said he loved him during that time, Phil had managed to take the truth out of the statement. It felt easier, thinking about it like Tom had just been a confused and horny teenager, deciding to have sex with the first person that showed interest in him. Because if it had been real, and Tom had been in love, that would mean that he fell out of love at some point. Tom was able to do that. Somehow, he worked everything out for himself. Phil can’t understand that part. He can’t understand how Tom was able to ignore his attraction to men, especially now that he knows for sure that it was real.

That’s what’s always been so fucking confusing. Phil couldn’t relate to anyone other than Tom, really. When he was trying to figure out how to live knowing he’s different, Phil looked at what Tom was doing as a guide. And Phil did just what Tom did. He moved to Manchester at eighteen. Tom started working right away while Phil went to university, but they were still in similar situations. They were surrounded by new people, in a new place, free to shape their personalities into the type of adults they wanted to become.

Phil had tried to do what Tom did. Right as Phil moved out, Martyn had told him about this Linda he’d started seeing. And so, apart from his studies, Phil’s main focus was to fall for a girl and leave that part of his life behind just like Tom had done. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do. If it worked for Tom, it should work for Phil.

It didn’t work. Phil was lost on his own with no way to break out of the abnormal.

Phil lets out a breath and turns his face down into the pillow yet again. He’s not sure how to go about everything, now that he’s no longer able to pretend like he could fit into Tom’s mold. Tom’s not that; he’s just a person. A person with feelings and desires that are different from Phil’s. It’s been proven time and time again but right now Phil thinks he might be on the cusp of truly realising it. This isn’t something that will change.

In a way, it is a truly devastating realisation. But Phil can’t feel devastated anymore. Not right now. Right now, he indulges in another thought he’s managed to suppress and can’t anymore. This one isn’t a memory, just a fantasy. A fantasy of himself, straddling a curly haired eighteen year old in his neatly made bed, letting his hands smooth out over his chest and allowing the flatness of it to turn him on. He imagines deep, trusting eyes staring up at him. Phil rolls his hips against the mattress and groans into the pillow, pretending like it’s not a mattress but a body he’s grinding against, like it’s not a pillow but firm, delicious skin for him to pant against.

Devastating or not, Phil manages to have another mind blowing orgasm and it helps. With a free mind to roam, there’s no end to the secret desires, each one hotter than the next.

-

_I would rather not go_   
_Back to the old house_   
_There’s too many bad memories_   
_Too many memories here_

Phil doesn’t go back to his parents’ house the following Thursday. He doesn’t even bother coming up with a believable excuse. 

When Phil rang Martyn to let him know, he was immediately bombarded with obstinance. Usually, that gets to him. Martyn has a tendency to pile guilt onto Phil because he knows that it works, and it worked this time too. Phil did feel guilty. But he let Martyn speak without any interruptions, and then told him ‘no’ yet again. It was probably pure shock that led to Martyn’s relenting. For once in his life, Phil couldn’t find it in himself to care. The conversation ended and Phil slumped back on his bed. The Smiths’ record played in the background, mixing with the sound of the wind and birds singing that came from the open window.

_Here began all my dreams_   
_The saddest thing I’ve ever seen_   
_And you never even knew_   
_How much I really liked you_   
_Because I never even told you_   
_Oh, and I meant to_

Listening to the words, sung with a heart breaking authenticity, Phil found himself wondering whether Morrissey went through something like this. More than once, Phil has wondered whether the love songs are about a boy or a girl. In the songs that were explicitly about a boy, mentioning something suggestive, Phil wondered if he was picking up on that suggestion due to his own experience or whether they were meant to be heard that way. 

Phil has heard many love songs in his day. Sad songs, lonely songs, confused songs. But they never reached the feeling that The Smiths do. The specific longing of a same sex attraction. The secrecy and the hurt.

Phil is hurting again, but not like he was before. Now he’s hurting because he’s aware that he wants something he can’t have. He wants to go back in time and tell Tom exactly how he feels about him. He wishes he would have taken some agency over the situation, rather than assume that Tom knew what he was doing. Because even if Tom had a clearer mind about the situation, he couldn’t read Phil’s thoughts. He couldn’t have known what Phil’s heart felt when they were together. Had Phil said something, maybe things would have turned out differently.

But Phil can’t go back. Tom’s married. What they shared is now exclusive to the past. It’s an awful thing to know, now that Phil can let himself think about what it really meant to him beyond the scary parts of it. The scary parts will always belong to Phil’s present, anyway. Whether he’s alone or with someone, he will always have these feelings and impulses, and they won’t be generally accepted. Denying himself the good parts of it only makes him unaccepted, and nothing else. Not loved, not understood. Phil could stand to feel loved right about now. He could stand to feel understood.

Phil thinks back on Deborah, sitting on a chair behind him as he watched the birds frolic in their cage. He remembers the sound of the knitting needles in her hands bumping together every so often, the soft tremor of her voice as she hummed a song under her breath.

They never really spoke much. Phil’s never had to speak much in order to enjoy someone’s company. Deborah’s silence wasn’t like other people’s silence, though. It wasn’t hard for her to keep. Other people always had words bubbling beneath the surface, but not her. She let Phil look at the birds and she answered questions if he happened to have any.

There was one visit that was different from the rest. It had been a nice, sunny day. Phil was eleven years old. It was the perfect time to play outside with the other children on the street. Maybe if Phil played his cards right he could even go with Martyn and Tom on one of their adventures. Those had been his thoughts at the start of that sunny day, but by the time school was over, they had completely vanished from Phil’s mind. 

He hurried home with tears in his eyes. Other kids were walking or cycling home as well, and Phil was desperate to isolate himself from view so that he could curl up and sob like a baby. He already knew that boys his age weren’t supposed to cry, but he was prone to breaking that rule. He didn’t know how to stop himself when the tears started coming. He was confused as to why nobody else felt things as strongly as he did.

As soon as Phil arrived on his street, he noticed another car on his driveway. He could tell that it was grandma and grandpa’s car from a mile away. As much as Phil loved his grandparents, recently he had noticed that something was beginning to change in the way that they acted towards him. They never used to tell him how to behave, but now they did every time he saw them.

Phil didn’t want to deal with that. He couldn’t. His throat hurt from held back tears. His body was trembling with tension. His brain was foggy and he only knew two things; he didn’t want to see his friends, and he didn’t want to see his family.

He made his way to Deborah’s house without thinking. She was outside, tending to the garden. She was crouching by the front steps, pulling out weeds, wiping the sweat off her brow. She looked tiny but strong at the same time. Phil remembers being impressed by that. He was starting to feel tiny in the world but he couldn’t imagine a day when he’d feel strong.

Deborah noticed him before he said anything. She turned her head and stood up with a bright smile. Phil wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t. He should’ve been able to. He shouldn’t have been sad in the first place.

But rather than scold him for looking distressed, Deborah’s face fell. She hurried over to where Phil was standing by the gate, bent down to stand on one knee, and let him fall into her arms.

Deborah went about everything so differently from all the other adults Phil knew. She took Phil inside without bombarding him with questions. She made him sit by the kitchen table while she prepared a sandwich. All the while, Phil sat crying into his hands, and she didn’t say a word about it.

Instead, she set down the plate and a glass of water in front of him. Phil looked at her and sniffed. She handed him a paper tissue. He blew his nose and wiped his cheeks, and then he ate. He was starving.

It wasn’t until after his meal, when they’d moved to the sofa in the lounge, that Deborah asked. Phil was looking at the birds the whole time. The tight knot of sadness in his chest became synonymous with the sound of birds singing. All the same, the freedom to feel sad and to share without holding back, has become tied to watching birds play inside a cage. It’s a confusing mix of feelings that shouldn’t be able to go together. 

The details aren’t that important, but Phil remembers that his regular tormentor had had it in for him that day. He had been taunted endlessly by him. The boy made sure no one else invited Phil to play. It was the feeling of it all, months and months of build up, that had eventually caused Phil to snap. It had felt threatening. It had felt like no one liked him enough to stand up for him. It hadn't been the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

It doesn’t matter if Phil remembers that. What matters is that he remembers what Deborah said after he finished speaking. He had been red from embarrassment, with new tears in his eyes, after clumsily putting it into words.

“You’re a good person, Phil.” She looked down at him, and Phil had finally met her gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You don’t deserve to be treated that way.”

Phil didn’t understand. He had never seen Deborah so serious. Serious, but unintimidating, as usual not at all like other adults.

“You should try to remember that,” Deborah had said. “If you’re ever made to feel like a bad person, remember that it’s not true. It will never be true. No matter what. Okay?”

Phil nodded. Deborah nodded back. They fell back into silence. Phil didn’t feel like crying anymore.

Phil never forgot what she said, but it’s not until now that he’s starting to make sense of it. Maybe she saw something in him that other people didn’t. Maybe she knew that he was different, and that the world wouldn’t let him forget it. Maybe she wanted to offer at least one other perspective. Maybe she wanted Phil to know that she’d be on his side, even if no one else was.

Phil wants to be normal. He wants to fit in. He doesn’t want to stand out from the crowd in any way, shape, or form. But he’s not normal. He won’t ever truly fit in. He will stand out, no matter how hard he tries to hide. But he’s not a bad person. Through it all, Phil has always allowed himself to believe that. And maybe that’s the most important thing to stay aware of, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Back To The Old House by The Smiths


	8. Chapter 8

Phil hasn’t had a haircut since before the wedding.

He looks at his reflection in the mirror above the sink in the bathroom. He runs both hands through his hair. No matter what he tries to do, it doesn’t look even remotely neat. Mum has been fussing the past few Thursdays, asking him if she can cut it or at least book him in for a hair appointment with a barber. Every time, Phil shrugs or shakes his head in response. He’s not a child. It’s not his mum’s job to sort those kinds of things out for him anymore.

Phil isn’t sure if it’s the look of his hair or the simple fact that it’s been growing on his terms, but he thinks he looks more like himself now than ever before. It doesn’t look good, really, but that’s not the point. It hangs limp and overgrown over his forehead, almost curling up at his neck. But at least it’s his own lack of caring, or laziness, that made it this way. No one else’s. Phil’s in charge of it now.

Somehow, he looks both younger and older like this. Mum’s usual styling is just a smart cut. He looks younger because it’s obvious that he barely touches it before walking out the door. He looks older because no one could possibly accuse him of getting his hair cut by his own mum, still.

The summer has passed quickly, and Phil’s not set foot in Martyn’s record shop. Instead, Phil’s either kept to himself or socialised with Anja and Vicky. He still doesn’t know what is going on between them, but the fighting seems to have toned down a notch.

It has been one of the most uneventful summers of Phil’s life so far. The only thing he has to show for it is overgrown hair and less friends than when it started. He isn’t sure he could’ve called Dan a friend after only properly hanging out twice, but he knows Tom was a friend. He knows that he’s not a friend anymore. And he knows that Mum worries, knowing Phil’s been withdrawing from practically everyone around him.

But Phil feels more content now in August than he did in May. Because his messy overgrown hair is his own. Any distance between himself and other people was placed by himself, for himself. It isn’t like feeling happy, but for the first time in a long time, Phil doesn’t feel unhappy. That’s enough for now.

-

Anja is sitting on the sofa with a mirror, putting mascara on her eyelashes. It’s a Friday evening and Phil is just getting back from work. Phil knows what this means. His skin prickles as he tosses his backpack onto the armchair and stops in his tracks, just looking at her.

Anja puts the mascara away and looks up at him with an innocent smile.

“So I invited--”

“Yeah,” Phil interjects. He leans on the back of the armchair. “Vicky, Raz, Steven, Jim?”

Anja nods. “It’s been so long since we all hung out.”

It has been a while. Phil doesn’t miss it one bit. Still, he nods and tries his best for a genuine smile. He’s already making up excuses in his head, excuses that will allow him to stay in his room while they drink and chat about any and all things Phil couldn’t give two craps about.

Before Anja can comment on Phil’s silence, Phil makes his way to the kitchen for something to eat. While he puts the kettle on for some coffee, he hears a knock at the door. He listens closely, making out two voices at first. Vicky and Raz, the ones that always arrive first. Phil hadn’t expected them so soon. It’s only six in the evening. He had been hoping for at least a bit of quiet time before he had to steel himself to lie.

But then he hears a third voice. At first, Phil can’t place it. He just assumes that it’s some new boyfriend of Raz’s, and it makes his stomach go tight. At least he knows what to expect from the people he knows. Having to meet a new person means the night could go in any direction.

That is, until Phil realises it’s not a stranger. As they make their way to the sofa Phil only has to turn his head slightly to see curly brown hair and a skinny body covered in clothes that are too big. It’s Dan. It’s Dan that’s putting away Phil’s bag and sitting down on the armchair. Fuck.

Phil’s heart pounds. The coffee is done, but he doesn’t feel like drinking it anymore. He feels absolutely stuck with no way of getting out of a situation he knows will be intensely awkward. It would’ve been better if he hadn’t noticed. Then he wouldn’t have to fake being surprised to see him. He wouldn’t have to think about what the fuck to do about this. He wouldn’t have to dread leaving the kitchen.

Despite not wanting it, he pours the hot water into the cup, mixes the coffee grounds in, and walks out of the kitchen. He’s dead set on going to his room. He doesn’t want to spend the whole night pretending. After finally allowing his mind more freedom, he’s started to realise just how much he hates doing that.

“Hey, Phil!” Raz greets him at once, loud as always.

Of course Raz and Dan know each other. They both work at the record shop. And they probably get along well, seeing as neither of them are scared to say what they think. Phil stops in his tracks and fakes a smile.

“Hi,” he nods, shooting a glance at Dan.

Dan looks as caught off guard as Phil feels. His jaw is clenched and he’s got one hand wrapped around the other in a tight hold. Phil finds himself feeling bad for him. So bad that his own worries seem to fade. Like many times before, the desire to reassure Dan overpowers everything else.

He hasn’t actually seen Dan in a long time, but as their eyes lock, it feels like no time has passed. The exact same protectiveness, longing, and shame fly around like anxious butterflies in the pit of Phil’s stomach.

Raz looks between the two of them. “Oh, right,” she says. “You know each other.”

Anja raises an eyebrow. “You do?”

“We went to see The Smiths together,” Dan says.

His face is pink. Phil wants to rescue him from this weirdness, from the intrigue that’s suddenly lighting up the girls’ eyes.

“Yup,” Phil says. “I thought I’d go to my room for a bit. Care to join me, Dan?”

He didn’t mean to say that last bit. It just slipped out. But Dan gets to his feet instantly. A real smile stretches his lips as he says his small but giddy “sure”, and follows Phil into his room before the girls get an opportunity to comment on it.

As Phil closes the door behind himself, he stalls with his hand on the door knob.

“Would you like some coffee, too?” he asks.

Dan is standing in the middle of the room. Phil’s bed is unmade, there are socks on the floor by the foot of his bed, and there is an unorganised pile of papers scattered on his desk. Phil doesn’t really notice the mess, normally, but right now everything about it is an incredible eyesore.

“That’s okay,” Dan says.

“Okay,” Phil says. He puts the mug down on the desk and clumsily puts the pile away from taking over the entire surface of the desk. Then he covers the bed with his duvet and pats it, looking back at Dan with an apologetic smile. “You can sit down here if you want to.”

Dan grins and follows Phil’s suggestion. Phil sits down on the desk chair and curses himself for not asking Dan to sit on the chair instead. It’s far too nice to watch Dan make himself comfortable on his tiny single bed. Phil’s been getting used to allowing those previously stored away thoughts to take focus in his mind. He shouldn’t know what it looks like when Dan crosses his legs and leans against the wall. It’s going to fuel way too many fantasies, ones that Phil won’t be able to enjoy seeing as they’ll never actually come true.

“So,” Dan says, rocking forward a little bit, grabbing his crossed ankles. “Hi.”

It’s not what Phil expected him to say. A flustered giggle escapes him. They lock eyes for two seconds and then look away. Phil can’t stop smiling. His heart is beating hard and fast inside his chest.

“Hi,” Phil laughs. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Dan says, or asks. “I don’t know. Thanks for getting me out of that.”

“Out of what?” Phil asks.

Dan shrugs, getting red again. “I only agreed to come because Raz--”

“Forced you to,” Phil finishes with a laugh.

Dan giggles.

“I guess you could call it that, yeah,” he says. “She’s cool, though. I’m just… weird about group situations like this.”

Phil never would have guessed. Most of the time, Dan seems so confident.

“I get it,” Phil says. He forces himself to make and hold eye contact this time. “They’re nice though. We should get out and join them in a bit.”

Dan nods. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Phil’s got no idea what to say to that. He looks down at Dan’s hands, still wrapped around his ankles. He should just say what he’s thinking. Isn’t that what he’s been working himself up to do more of? To not apologise for existing?

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” Phil says.

When they lock eyes this time, the intensity of Dan’s gaze is almost unbearable. Phil grabs the arm rests of his desk chair, as if to physically restrain himself from getting on the bed with Dan. He’s not used to this. He’s not used to being on the receiving end of something so electric. Phil has every reason to doubt Dan would ever consider Phil for anything, but the conviction in Dan’s eyes right now is something that Phil can’t interpret in any other way but as that. As pure want. Phil isn’t sure that he’s still strong enough not to give into it.

He lets out a breath, and then Dan lets out a breath, too. They chuckle for no apparent reason as the intensity drops. It eases into something not quite as sharp, not quite as urgent.

“I guess we should join the others, yeah?” Phil says.

Dan shrugs. There’s a playful smile on his face.

“Weren’t you supposed to drink coffee?” he asks.

Phil looks at the cup he left on the desk. He hasn’t even touched it. Phil snorts.

“Oh,” he says, getting flustered. “I suppose I forgot.”

“And besides,” Dan says with a shrug. “I don’t know if I wanna go join them anyway.”

“Why not?”

“They’re not nearly as cool as you.”

Phil holds back a laugh. He’s not being self deprecating. He’s just very aware of the fact that that’s not true, and that Dan must be a very peculiar person if he doesn’t think so.

“It’s true,” Dan says to Phil’s eye roll. “Nice poster, by the way.”

He nods towards the black and white Morrissey poster above his bed. Phil flushes pink. He completely forgot about it. Had he gotten a bit more notice about tonight he would’ve taken it down. Phil is completely caught off guard, feeling a need to explain himself. Dan looking at and noticing that picture feels like he’s looking straight into Phil’s mind and finding all of his most private, intimate thoughts and fantasies.

“Thanks,” Phil mumbles.

Dan uncrosses his legs and stretches his shoulders. Phil doesn’t want to look at his chest, but as Dan arches his back there’s no other place to look, really. Phil’s sure anyone else would feel the same way. Especially with how the loose collar of Dan’s shirt slips down, revealing his collarbones. They are so sharp and so attractive. Phil briefly imagines what it would be like to kiss them, to line them with bruises.

Dan catches Phil’s eye. A feeling of pure, unadulterated panic stirs so quickly in Phil’s chest that it makes his head spin. But it passes, remembered only as a brief moment, because Dan licks his lips and looks at Phil’s mouth, and--

A loud knock on Phil’s door startles them both. Stephen barges in so suddenly, they turn their heads towards him so quickly they might just snap off. They share a look when Stephen laughs, drinking from a can of beer and saying something nearly incomprehensible about the two of them being boring. Phil doesn’t even dare to look at Dan at this moment. He feels way too caught off guard. What would have happened if a couple more minutes had passed? Being alone in a room with Dan is starting to feel more and more like sitting inside a ticking time bomb. Phil can’t see the timer. He has no way of knowing at which moment something will happen, just that it will. If they spend enough time alone together, eventually there’s going to be an explosion and if that occurs with someone barging in, it would mean the end of so much.

Phil still doesn’t dare to look at Dan as they begrudgingly follow Stephen to the living room for the ‘real party’. But he does it anyway. He makes sure Dan looks back at him so that he can offer him some silent reassurance that Phil’s here, and Dan’s got nothing to worry about. The small smile Dan returns is worth overcoming any and all nerves for.

-

It would be lovely if Phil could excuse getting drunk on the fact that he wasn’t paying attention to how much he’s drinking, but it would be a dirty dirty lie. Rather, he paid close attention, namely to Dan and just how much he consumed and how he behaved in this setting. Because Phil wanted to keep an eye out for him. He’s the youngest in the group and sure, Dan is intelligent and independent, but he’s still only eighteen. Or nineteen, as Dan corrected him earlier. Apparently his birthday was in June.

But Phil’s not a perfect person. He didn’t exactly slow Dan down at all. Instead he followed his lead, and before he knew it he was laughing at things that weren’t funny and sitting closer and closer to Dan in the little circle they’d all formed in the middle of the lounge.

Dan fits right in. He even makes the guys laugh. He must just be that sort of person - the kind that can get on with just about anyone. That must be the reason why things feel so intense between them, Phil thinks. Because there’s something about Dan that draws people in. He could choose to hang out with anyone else at the party. And yet, Dan stays by Phil’s side the entire night. Phil catches Dan looking at him more often than not. Maybe Dan wasn’t lying when he said he likes Phil the best. But then, Phil’s not sure he can handle knowing that.

There’s a lot about tonight that Phil shouldn’t be able to handle. He just can’t find it in himself to care about whether he can or not. He’s done worrying about that sort of thing. He’s well aware of why he actually considers joining the rest of the group when they insist on going out dancing. It’s because he knows that wherever he goes, Dan will follow, and right now being alone in a flat with Dan seems incredibly dangerous. Under the influence, the timer on that bomb goes twice as fast. Speeding up and slowing down at a confusing pace, but all the same, it seems inevitable now that Dan’s got his arm wrapped around Phil’s shoulders, comfortably leaning his weight on him while they talk to Jim and Vicky in the kitchen. If Phil turned his head slightly, his mouth would practically be on Dan’s.

Once they exit the kitchen and Phil’s about to put his shoes on, Dan tightens his grip around his shoulders. Phil freezes.

“Hey,” Dan whispers low in his ear. “I don’t really want to go. Can’t we stay here? Just you and me?”

Phil is going to die. He laughs, feeling Dan’s hand slide down his back casually as he frees Phil from his hold. It makes Phil shiver.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Phil asks.

They’re standing so close, speaking so privately, and yet no one bats an eye. It’s as though the moment Dan entered the flat, the two of them became conjoined, and everyone’s acting like that’s totally normal. It feels normal to Phil too. Like things have always been this way, but not, because the moment they’re alone the bomb will start ticking and Phil’s not sure what he should want, right now.

“Yeah,” Dan nods. Then he bites his bottom lip. Phil can feel some of his nerves even through this haze of intoxication.

“Okay,” Phil says. “Sure.”

Phil feels Dan’s relief, and it becomes his own, and as usual when it comes to Dan it’s not hard for Phil to stand his ground even when Anja nags him about coming along. It’s simply non negotiable, and even as drunk as she is, Anja seems to realise that. And so the noisy flat becomes quiet as the front door closes behind Raz.

A hand grips Phil’s hip the moment they’re out of view, in the hallway after saying their goodbyes. Phil allows himself to melt into Dan’s side. He wraps an arm around his back and nuzzles his face into the side of Dan’s neck. Something about it all seems so inappropriately natural. Phil doesn’t realise when it happens but it only takes a moment for Dan to be standing with his back against the wall as Phil glues himself to his body. It’s not an explosion. The bomb is still ticking. The hand on Phil’s hip goes tighter, holding on like it’s Dan’s only tether to reality.

“Phil,” Dan breathes against his hair, and then something happens.

Something snaps, but it isn’t what Phil expected.

Rather than anything else, Phil is overcome by an onslaught of tears. He fights them so hard his throat hurts. His body feels absolutely wrecked. As he breathes in Dan’s masculine scent, Phil is reminded of another moment in another time. He’s shaking and he’s sure Dan can feel that. The feeling between them shifts. Dan wraps his arms around Phil’s back, but not as a suggestion for it to lead to anything else. He just holds him, plain and simple, as Phil works to manage his own breathing.

Phil’s mind is flooded with memories of Tom, and those memories make this moment feel so fleeting. Because in hindsight, that’s what everything between Phil and Tom was; an impermanent sense of belonging, trapped in Phil’s mind on repeat as the only thing he’d ever really have. The only thing Phil can compare anything to. Tom was fine moving on but Phil wasn’t. Instead, he buried it, and so his feelings about it all haven’t changed even after all this time.

And now there’s a nineteen year old boy in his flat, holding Phil’s broken pieces together, even if that’s not what either of them wanted. 

“Are you okay?” Dan whispers into Phil’s ear.

The tone of his voice is so heartbreakingly sympathetic. Phil isn’t supposed to be on this end of comfort. Not with Dan. That’s not how this is supposed to work. Phil can’t remember ever having comforted Tom when they went through this. Tom was always strong enough to deal with things on his own.

Phil lets out a breath and then pulls away. It feels so odd, so wrong, to not be touching anymore. He forces himself to smile. He can be strong, too.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think it’s the alcohol--I think I had a weird reaction.”

“D’you need to lie down?” Dan asks.

He’s still slurring a bit. His eyes are just on the side of loopy, watery, and he’s got a lopsided smile on his face. If Phil focuses on that, he might be able to shake everything that suddenly thundered over him.

“I dunno,” Phil answers. They look into each other’s eyes until they start laughing.

Dan brushes his palm over Phil’s arm and then takes his hand.

“Come with me,” he says. “I know just the place.”

Everything Phil feels becomes concentrated inside their joined hands. Instead of pushing back tears, he’s now giggling and flustered as he follows Dan’s lead to the lounge. 

They end up on the sofa in an uncomfortable pile of limbs before they finally adjust themselves. Phil’s got his neck on the arm rest and Dan’s back against his chest. Without thinking, Phil wraps his arms around Dan’s chest. Dan says nothing. He just holds on to Phil, keeps Phil’s arms securely around him, and sighs. The bomb starts ticking again.

“What’s that painting?” Dan asks.

They’re facing the bird painting perfectly. It’s gone to its side again, just barely hanging on to the nail that’s supposed to keep it in place. Phil doesn’t know when that happened this time. It just happened. It seemingly nudged itself out of place.

“Do you like it?” Phil says instead of answering.

Dan chuckles.

“I do,” he says. “I like the angle. Really turns it into something truly unique, don’t you think?”

Phil looks down at his arms, still locked around Dan’s chest. He hasn’t been on this end of it, really. He’s never felt this intensely protective of another person before. That’s all Phil can really process, while he answers Dan’s question.

“Yeah,” is what he ends up saying. “I think so, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Ask by The Smiths


	9. Chapter 9

There’s a glass of water on Phil’s bedside table. The sun is shining through the window, hitting the glass and creating an almost blinding glare. Phil’s head hurts. He closes his eyes and covers his head with the duvet, but it’s too hot. It’s like he’s being smothered and now he’s desperate to cool down. He ends up tossing the duvet to the floor as he sits up, trying to make sense of the disoriented state he’s woken up in.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. Phil’s heart pounds anxiously when the memory of being glued to Dan’s body enters his mind. He grabs the water and downs it in three big gulps, but it doesn’t help much for the headache, or the regret. He definitely overstepped. By process of elimination, he figures they must have fallen asleep on the sofa together. Because they were lying on the sofa together, last night. Phil held Dan in his arms and talked quietly about a painting on a wall in his flat as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

The only mystery remaining is just how Phil ended up in his own bed. And where the hell Dan is. And if they were still on the sofa when Anja got home, assuming she did come home last night. Phil closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He should have been more careful. He’s the one that’s supposed to keep them out of trouble. What if Stephen or Jim walked in and caught them on the sofa together like that? If they did, Phil can’t imagine ever coming back from that. He can’t imagine they’d ever let him live that down.

Phil gets up and changes into clean pants, a grey t-shirt, and denim jeans. Part of him wants to hide out here and pretend like nothing happened, but he can’t do that. If nothing else, he has to find Dan and make sure he’s safe. Tom was right. Dan is the type that could easily be taken advantage of. And fuck, Phil doesn’t want to think about Tom right now. His defences are well and truly down.

It turns out that all Phil has to do to find Dan is to open his bedroom door. Because Dan is sound asleep on the sofa. His legs are hanging over one end while his head is on a pillow Phil doesn’t think was there last night. He’s covered by a flower patterned duvet that belongs to Anja. There’s a glass of water on the coffee table, just like there was on Phil’s bedside table. Whatever happened last night, neither one of them could’ve been conscious for it.

Anja’s bedroom door is open, but she’s nowhere to be found. Phil shakes his head at himself, willing the strange anxious swooping in his stomach to go away. He can’t just stand here and think about how innocent Dan looks with his mouth half open, with the side of his face covered in pink lines from the pillow, with his hair messier and curlier than Phil’s seen it before.

Instead, Phil quietly makes his way to the bathroom for a shower. He hopes he comes out of it with a clear mind.

-

It’s not until Phil’s put down two cups of coffee on the coffee table and taken a seat on the armchair that Dan starts to stir. Phil gently nudges his knees, where they’re still bent over the side of the sofa. Phil’s not sure if the shower did much to suppress the waves of anxiety inside, but as he eats his toast and drinks his coffee he feels capable of focusing on something other than those feelings.

Dan’s jeans are tossed to the floor. Phil doesn’t mean to, but his gaze wanders to take in the sight of Dan’s naked legs. The slender curve of his calf going down to his ankle. Phil’s not so deprived that he’ll appreciate the sight of something so ordinary, something he’s seen all summer when the heat’s made people walk around in shorts. He’s seen more skin on other men this summer without having any particular reaction. But right now, watching Dan so vulnerably unconscious, there are sparks flying in Phil’s stomach. Dan could be fully clothed and he’d feel flustered looking at him. It doesn’t help that he’s currently skin to skin with him, even if that only means the innocent touch of a palm to a knee. It doesn’t help that the duvet is fitted close to his sides, revealing the outline of the body underneath it.

As Dan begins to wake, it certainly doesn’t help that he starts making… noises.

They’re innocent, Phil tells himself. Soft whines and breathy moans, as Dan smacks his dry mouth and furrows his brows. He scratches the side of his face and shifts uncomfortably on the tiny sofa. His eyes open up. Phil’s got his hand settled on Dan’s knee. He’s not moving it, even though he doesn’t technically need to be touching Dan anymore.

Dan’s face is puffy from sleep. He squints at Phil with a look of pure confusion on his face.

“Good morning,” Phil says. He has no idea what else to say right now, really.

“G’morning,” Dan rasps in response, then attempts to clear his dry throat.

Dan moves to sit up. Phil’s hand falls from his knee with the motion and as it does, they share a brief glance that feels like everything.

They don’t mention it. Phil feels tense and nervous, but not afraid. Dan has a drink of water. Like Phil did earlier, he gulps it down quickly. As Dan puts the glass down, he looks back at Phil.

“What?” he asks. His voice isn’t quite as raspy, but it’s weak.

It’s not until now that Phil realises that he’s smiling, open and uninhibited, as he watches Dan reach for a piece of toast. But then Dan smiles back.

“What’s-did I fall asleep here?” he asks. “Did we-”

“Um,” Phil interjects, even though he’s got no clue what question Dan might ask. He doesn’t want to risk it. “I think we, uh, fell asleep on the sofa and then I went to bed.”

Dan looks down at his duvet covered lap.

“And tucked me in,” he says.

Phil’s stomach swoops, but this time it doesn’t feel like anxiety.

“I suppose so,” he says. “I don’t remember doing that. I woke up in my own bed not remembering how I got there.”

“Did we really have that much to drink?” Dan asks with a laugh. “Bloody hell.”

“It didn’t feel like it, did it?” Phil agrees, taking a sip of coffee.

It did feel like it, last night. Because even before they were alone, they became increasingly more comfortable with closeness and touch. Phil wouldn’t have pushed his face into the crook of Dan’s neck if it weren’t for the alcohol. He wouldn’t have breathed in his scent, or compared it to another moment he shared with another guy. He wouldn’t have cuddled up with Dan on the sofa and fallen asleep, had they been sober. At the same time, it feels wrong to blame it on the alcohol. Because the alcohol didn’t create those urges; it just lowered their inhibitions. 

They share a look that, to Phil, says all of that. 

The ticking starts again. It’s slower, less urgent, as they have breakfast mostly in silence. But it’s there. And then it stops as the phone rings loudly from the windowsill.

Phil rushes over to answer, and is relieved to hear Anja’s voice on the other end.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“I crashed at Vicky’s,” Anja says. She sounds tired. Phil can only imagine that her night was much more eventful than his own. “I just went home during the night to pick up some stuff.”

Phil freezes. “Oh,” he stutters out.

All he can imagine is her walking in on him and Dan on the sofa, and making up all sorts of theories. His breathing grows shallow, thin. No matter how hard he tries to inhale, his lungs still feel empty.

“Yeah, you were completely out of it,” Anja giggles. “I take it you don’t remember that I got you into bed?”

“Uh, no,” Phil says. When he looks over at the sofa, he realises that Dan is watching him. Intently.

Phil quickly looks away. He doesn’t want Dan to think there’s any cause for alarm. If anyone was going to catch them like that, he’s glad it was Anja.

“Did you--,” Phil starts to say, then rephrases. “Were you alone?”

“Yeah, I made Vicky and Raz wait outside,” Anja says.

There’s a specific tone to her voice. Phil might even call it conspiratorial. It almost sounds as if it had been a very deliberate move on Anja’s end. Phil’s glad for it now, and at the same time, he resents the fact that he let things go as far as they did. He should have had more control. He won’t pretend like he didn’t enjoy what happened last night, but he should at least be capable of cleaning up his mess. He shouldn’t risk being walked in on with a guy literally in his arms.

“Just in case, you know,” Anja adds. “I didn’t know what you were getting up to.”

Phil’s heart stops.

“Anyway,” Anja says quickly, smoothing over her previous statement just like that. “Yeah. I don’t want you to have back problems before you’re twenty five, so, you’re welcome I guess.”

In any other case, Phil might laugh. Now he looks out the window, at the little gathering of pigeons in the middle of the street fighting over a loaf of bread. He feels so overcome by both gratitude and shame. His eyes sting from held back tears. 

“Thank you,” he says, and it sounds so true and so important even if Phil’s supposed to brush this off like it was nothing.

Phil knows it wasn’t nothing. Anja knows, too.

Yet again, Anja smooths over the conversation with ease by telling him she’s going to be staying at Vicky’s for the day and that Phil should stay out of trouble. Phil can’t really focus on the conversation. He just hums like he’s listening, willing every second to go by faster so he can hang up and catch his breath.

Only once he does, he can’t. Because Dan’s sitting on the sofa, still glancing over from time to time, and Phil isn’t sure how to manage the intensity of the emotions that the phone call brought forth.

He’s supposed to act like it was nothing. But after everything Phil’s been through, and the memories he was suddenly forced to process after Tom’s wedding, he thinks he’s starting to run out of acts. Perhaps there’s a limited assortment for every single person, for every single lifetime. After spending his whole life acting, Phil’s mostly impressed he’s been able to keep it up for this long.

“Phil?” Dan says.

Phil isn’t startled. He’s extremely aware that Dan is there, and that he’s waiting for Phil to tell him who called. But the gathering of pigeons suddenly looks so interesting, so easy, so soothing to the sharp conflict in Phil’s chest. In some ways, he really hasn’t aged from being eleven years old, crying about a bully and feeling comforted by the simple lives Deborah’s birds lived in that cage. From an endlessly tragic perspective, part of why it felt comforting was because if the birds could live happy fulfilling lives inside their cages, then maybe so could Phil. But it doesn’t work like that. Phil’s not a domestic bird and he won’t ever be like Tom. Time and time again, he finds himself crushed by the realisation that he’s his own person and that he has to make his own way, forge his own path.

“Yeah,” Phil says, turning his head towards Dan. “It was Anja. She’s at Vicky’s.”

“Is everything alright?” Dan asks.

Finally, Phil is able to take a breath that fills his lungs and stops the chaos inside of him. It’s so easy to realign his thoughts, to put things into perspective, when he does it for Dan.

“Everything’s alright, yeah,” Phil nods. “Nothing to worry about.”

Dan gives him a curious look. Phil grins in response to it.

“‘Kay,” Dan smiles. His eyes are beautiful and loud and trusting. “If you say so.”

Phil sits down beside Dan on the sofa. He pats his knee without lingering. Sitting this close, the ticking gets faster.

“Yeah,” Phil agrees. He looks at Dan’s lips. “I say so.”

-

Dan showers. Phil cleans up the flat, which is covered in empty beer cans, blankets and cards for some reason scattered across the living room carpet. In the background, The Smiths’ album plays. The weather outside is beautiful. Any other day, Phil would’ve felt frustrated about having to clean up on his own just because Anja decided to stay over at Vicky’s. Any other day, Phil would’ve been thinking up a way for her to pay him back for this. Today, that’s not on Phil’s mind. The world feels calm. The sound of the water running in the bathroom and all of Phil’s favourite songs puts his mind at ease.

By the time the water stops, the flat is starting to look decent. 

“Phil?” Dan calls.

“Yeah?” Phil calls back, confused, as he approaches the bathroom door.

“Could I borrow a t-shirt?” Dan asks. He sounds just a little bit embarrassed. “And maybe some pants? I would’ve brought my own, but, well.”

“Sure,” Phil says without thinking. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks. And sorry. I’m such a twat.”

Phil’s already walking towards his room when he catches Dan mumble that last bit. He pauses mid step and laughs out loud.

“What did you say?” he asks in disbelief.

“Nothing,” Dan says, very quickly. “I’ve got a terrible cough. I know you know what that’s like.”

Dan fakes a cough, but Phil can still hear the giggle underneath it.

“Right,” Phil says, grinning as he rummages his drawer for a clean pair of pants and a t-shirt. “Obviously.”

He doesn’t even remember to check what exactly he grabbed when he goes back to the bathroom door. He’s too caught up in anticipating the moment Dan opens the door and Phil hands the clothes over. He knows he won’t see anything but it doesn’t matter. Dan’s still gonna be naked that makes Phil’s head spin.

And as suspected, after Phil knocks, Dan opens the door the tiniest smidge. The transaction of clothing is quick and efficient. Phil looks away, anyway. There’s no risk of seeing anything he shouldn’t see. But, as also suspected, his heart still pounds as his brain conjures the image that he’s missing out on in real life.

Phil’s sitting on the sofa, looking through yesterday’s newspaper with a fairly uninterested eye, when Dan finally exits the bathroom.

“Mate,” Dan says, and Phil turns around to look.

The t-shirt is nothing special, plain white, but it looks small on Dan. It’s a staggering difference to Dan’s tendency towards baggy clothing. Phil’d argue that this is actually Dan’s size. It’s fitted to his chest and stomach. It can only really be described as tight if it’s in comparison to Dan’s usual fashion of big, boxy t-shirts.

“What?” Phil asks, even though he knows what Dan means.

“When did you get this shirt, when you were twelve?” Dan laughs as he sits down next to him.

Sitting this close, Phil can see Dan’s nipples through the shirt. He forces himself to look at Dan’s face and the wet mess of curls on his head after his shower.

“What’d you mean?” Phil asks. “It suits you.”

Dan pulls exaggeratedly at the front of the shirt, faking like he’s trapped in some sort of straitjacket. Phil laughs, willing himself not to stare.

“It suits me, does it?” Dan says and rolls his eyes. “I look like some kinda…”

His mouth snaps closed. He shrugs uncomfortably.

“I dunno,” he says. “Maybe it does suit me.”

Phil could point out how quickly Dan changed his mind. He could ask about it. He could even make fun of him a little bit. But as Dan worries his bottom lip between his teeth, Phil finds that he can’t do that.

“I could get you another shirt,” he offers. 

Something’s changed, and it’s made the easy banter come to a stop. All it tells Phil is that he should tread carefully.

Dan smiles, once again shrugging in that unnatural fashion.

“Nah,” he says. “It’s alright. I’m just messing.”

“Okay,” Phil says.

They look at each other as silence falls between them. Time must be going but to Phil, it seems to be standing absolutely still. Just looking at Dan feels like an experience on its own. Like something new, something exciting. Because Dan maintains eye contact and smiles in that subdued way that reaches his eyes. Given the fact that time has not actually stopped, Phil realises that this is allowed. This silence. Simply looking. That’s not something that happens with other people. This means something. For the life of him, Phil doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t know what to make of it, really.

“What was university like?” Dan asks, then.

It’s said in a voice so quiet and low and private, it makes the question sound almost suggestive. Phil disregards that. He looks away and he takes a breath and he readies himself to be responsible. Because in this scenario, that is the role he has to take on. As long as he focuses on that, on what’s best for Dan, keeping what would have been best for himself years ago in mind while doing so, Phil thinks he’s able to do it.

So, he responds. He deflects from the tension. But Dan curls in on himself and listens to Phil speak with big round eyes, taking everything in like he’s absolutely enthralled by the dull experiences Phil had at university. In the end, Phil is powerless to stop the bomb from ticking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** A Rush And A Push And The Land Is Ours by The Smiths


	10. Chapter 10

Phil’s workload is getting heavier the farther into August they get. With September rapidly approaching, students come into the library in droves. They’re meant to search for course books but somehow all they do is end up making a mess that Phil has to clean up. He didn’t go to university for four years to clean up after other people. Working at the library sure makes it seem that way.

It’s not all bad, though. Lately, Phil’s mind has been completely occupied by the twisting and turning of any and all interactions he has with Dan. He finds himself fantasising about those moments they had that Saturday night, about what could’ve happened had he been brave enough to take it further. He finds himself concentrating on an image in his mind, an image of Dan in that tight white t-shirt. At least when the library is full, Phil doesn’t have the same amount of space in his mind for all of that.

All of this might be the reason as to why Phil completely freezes when he comes back from lunch only to catch Dan walking around aimlessly among the geography books. It feels like Phil’s heart has lodged into his throat, large and throbbing and taking his breath away. He steadies himself against a bookshelf, forcibly swallowing around the pounding in his throat.

If it were any other person, Phil would have already approached them and offered them help. He wouldn’t have paused. And so, Phil decides to approach Dan. As he does, he forces himself not to entertain the anxiety pushing and pulling him in all directions.

Dan turns around before Phil’s even made his presence known. He looks completely unfazed, smiling as he reaches out to pat Phil’s shoulder in greeting.

“There you are!” he says. “Hi!”

Dan’s hand lingers momentarily on Phil’s shoulder before he slides it down his arm. It leaves a trace of tingles, rushing all over the area Dan touched. Phil wills himself not to visibly shiver from the sensation.

“Yeah,” Phil chuckles. “Were you looking for me?”

It seems odd that a touch that faint would feel like so much now, after how close they were only a few days ago. It seems even odder to suddenly keep this distance. Phil has a growing desire to take another step into Dan’s space, to slide his hands over his waist, to wrap his arms around him.

Phil pushes the thought out of his head.

“Well, you told me you worked here,” Dan shrugs. “I don’t have work today. Was bored.”

It should sound casual, but every movement from Dan, every word out of his mouth, sounds like he’s following a script. Phil grins. It’s amazing how quickly Dan tosses him between frozen terror and easy laughter.

“Alright,” Phil says, unable to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

He leans against a bookcase, watching Dan fidget and return Phil’s smile tenfold.

“What?” Dan says, squirming.

Phil’s stomach swoops. Whoever this squirming and blushing version of Dan is, Phil feels desperate to see more of it.

“Nothing,” Phil says. _You’re cute_ , he thinks. “I should be working, you know.”

To his delight, Dan blushes harder. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m--”

Phil reaches out and pushes Dan’s chest lightly. He registers every second of the sensation of Dan’s chest against his open palm, despite how brief the moment is.

“Stop, I’m messing with you,” Phil laughs. “As long as you act like a confused student or something, no one’s gonna be on my case about it.”

Dan giggles. It’s a soft, sweet sound. “Alright. Uhm.”

“... Yes?” Phil prompts.

He’s being a bit of arse, Phil’s well aware. He’s just never been put in this position. Normally, Phil is the blubbering fool trying desperately to keep his thoughts from scrambling in any given situation. He catches Dan’s eyes as Dan looks back up from staring at the floor, making sure to communicate that he’s joking. The tension in Dan’s shoulders eases as a result.

“I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to come over to mine sometime this week,” he shrugs. “There’s a new Smiths single out and I thought… Uh, I thought we could listen to it together, you know? You might’ve already heard it but--”

“There’s a new song?” Phil asks.

“Three, actually,” Dan says. “Tom got me a record player for my birthday so I can actually play it, too.”

The mention of Tom catches Phil off guard. The swooping in his stomach turns sour. Sometimes he forgets the fact that Dan is pretty heavily involved with a lot of people in Phil’s life. He works for Phil’s brother, after all.

Phil musters all of his strength in order to think past the feeling.

“I thought I’d try a new recipe,” Dan goes on, speaking so rapidly it’s hard to keep up. “Curry? I can’t promise it’ll be good but it would be nice to get a second opinion. Well, you don’t _have_ to, I just thought, if you were coming ‘round I might as--”

“Dan,” Phil interrupts him. “Sure. I’d love to. And I promise you don’t have to cook for me.”

Dan’s blush returns and he chuckles at himself, at his own eagerness. Phil’s heart nearly breaks from the sound of it.

“Well, I’m gonna cook anyway,” Dan says. “You’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Poor me,” Phil grins.

“Poor you,” Dan agrees.

Silence. But it’s not bad silence. It’s an anticipating, excited silence during which they exchange goofy smiles and giggles. It’s confusing just how doubled the feeling of it is. Phil feels as gleeful and carefree as a child, and at the same time he’s painting an undoubtedly adult mental picture, with several vivid scenarios taking up space in his imagination. Dan makes him feel like a walking contradiction. Confident and nervous, brave and scared.

Dan leaves after only a few more minutes, but their brief interaction makes Phil feel like he can take on the next few hours of work like they’re nothing.

-

They settled on tomorrow night. Phil is looking forward to trying Dan’s curry and hearing the new The Smiths songs but most of all, he’s excited to see Dan again. It feels good to have that after his lonely summer. Dan makes it so easy. Even though Phil is pushing back the real feeling, the true desire that lies behind that excitement, he still feels like he’s getting something out of it. Because it’s with Dan. No one makes Phil feel like Dan makes him feel.

It stays warm in Phil’s chest until Anja, beside him on the sofa during the evening, turns it cold.

“You’re in a good mood,” she says, nudging Phil’s arm with her elbow.

Phil might have been humming under his breath while he was reading. His stomach turns into knots, already afraid of where the conversation might lead.

“It was a good day,” he says with a shrug.

Anja puts down her magazine.

“That’s good,” she says. “Especially after this summer.”

Phil closes the book and looks up at her. Behind her, through the window screen, he catches a flock of birds passing over the sky. 

“What d’you mean?” he asks.

“You’ve not gone out as much,” Anja says. “I was worrying a bit, I don’t know, but ever since--”

She stops herself. When Phil looks behind her this time, the birds are gone.

“Ever since what?” he asks.

He never presses, when Anja nudges closer to the stuff Phil desperately tries to hide. Redirecting conversations comes so easily to him now that it feels entirely unnatural to indulge, but at the same time, they both know what this is about. Anja isn’t scary, in her big red and yellow ugly knitted sweater and jeans shorts. In some ways, she still looks like she did when she was ten years old, when she was new in Phil’s life, and they were just about to realise that the world isn’t open to people like them.

Out of all the people in his life, Anja is the only person Phil’s never second guessed. He doesn’t have to worry about what she might think or expect of him because he knows it doesn’t matter.

“Since Dan was here,” Anja says. “You’ve seemed happier.”

She isn’t careful about it. She puts her feet up on Phil’s lap as she turns to fully face him from the other end of the sofa. Phil frowns, deliberately putting on some confusion. Only, Anja can tell that it’s a charade so clearly Phil feels silly for acting it out in the first place. He must have run out of acts, truly. He’s getting worse and worse at it.

“Dan?” he asks, unable to stop his face from breaking out into a big smile.

Anja grins in turn. “You get on really well. I don’t know. I think he’s good for you.”

“I mean,” Phil says, heart starting to beat faster, “it’s not like we’re that close. We were drunk on Saturday. That’s not what we’re like, usually.”

He doesn’t want to remember that Anja caught them together on the sofa. Even though it was innocent, and easily explained away, nothing too incriminating; added to everything else Anja knows about Phil it looked exactly like what it was.

“He just seems to get you.” Anja nudges Phil’s stomach with her big toe. Phil automatically puts both of his hands around either one of her feet, warming them. “Like, you never got on with Stephen or Jim like you do with Dan.”

“I don’t really have anything in common with them,” Phil reasons as he rubs down the backs of her feet.

“Yeah, well.” Anja rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying. You seem like you could be good for each other. That’s nice, isn’t it?”

Phil stares down at Anja’s feet as he responds, quietly. “Yeah.”

It is ridiculous, but admitting to such a simple thing feels like turning his heart inside out and showing it off. He’s so tense he almost can’t feel it anymore, like he’s entirely numb.

“It’s kind of like me and Vicky,” Anja says.

She isn’t being as forceful now. There’s an invisible question mark at the end of the statement that Phil’s afraid of. He can’t ignore it. He has to respond to it.

Phil looks back up into Anja’s kind, unthreatening eyes.

“Maybe,” he relents. _I hope so_ , he catches himself thinking.

Anja scoots forward, legs folded against her front, as she leans her head on Phil’s shoulder. One of her arms wraps around his shoulders and she squeezes him tighter, just for a moment.

“That’s good,” she says.

Phil could cry. He’s not sure why. He tries to focus on massaging Anja’s feet.

“Yeah,” he says. He releases another big smile, just thinking about Dan. “I think it is.”

It isn’t harder than that. Phil knew exactly what Anja meant by comparing it to her and Vicky, and Anja knows that Phil knows. For the first time since Tom, another person is getting a true insight into who Phil really is. And just like Tom, Anja understands. She doesn’t judge him for it. Even in the silence that follows, Phil can feel that Anja is happy for him.

Nothing really feels like this. Nothing feels like another person’s understanding and acceptance of the part of Phil that is supposed to be secret, and deep, and dark, and hidden away. Despite all the hurt Phil’s felt after everything with Tom, Tom was the first person to really offer that to him. People like that are worth holding on to.

It doesn’t take more than imagining what Tom might be doing right now for Phil to be scared of the thought of letting him back into his life. Because Tom is probably sitting at home with his wife, in their nice house, with their perfect life ahead of them. The idea of that makes part of Phil want to die. Tom won’t ever have to deal with this type of fear now. It crushes Phil, to know that the one person that made him feel like his life could be bearable despite everything isn’t on that side with him anymore.

Tom hasn’t done anything wrong. Phil knows that. They ended things amicably, a couple of years after Tom moved away. For those years they only saw each other every now and again as Phil was still living at home. It seemed like the best thing to do at the time, or at least, Tom thought it was and so Phil naturally agreed. They still had feelings for each other, but they had fizzled out somewhat. They didn’t share the same life anymore, after all. Phil didn’t fully realise it at the time but everything between them changed because of it.

It didn’t turn bad until Tom got in a relationship with Linda. Because suddenly, what they had for those years was suddenly highlighted in Phil’s mind as wrong. What Tom and Linda had wasn’t something Phil and Tom could’ve ever had. They couldn’t ever be open about it. It hadn’t even been a possibility in Phil’s mind.

That was when it all really hit him for the first time. Comparing what he’d had with Tom with what Tom now had with Linda. It set it in stone. It meant that Phil’s feelings for Tom were romantic. He found himself wishing for a life where he was in Linda’s position. 

It highlighted the fact that what they had was wrong. That what it really was, was a horrible thing that people go to hell for. A perverse, disgusting, twisted fetish. 

Knowing that the one person Phil had on his side in combating that narrative had turned over to the other side left him feeling stranded; utterly and completely alone to face a reality that now looked so hurtful, so grim.

But despite everything, Tom never stopped being kind. Even on his wedding day, Tom’s ultimate shot at normal, he acknowledged what he and Phil used to have. He’s never turned his back on it, or made it into something it wasn’t. He kept Phil in his life willingly, even if it wasn’t the same or as frequent as it used to be. Anyone else could’ve just dismissed everything and villainized Phil’s part of their past. But Tom didn’t. Because it meant more to Tom than that.

That, Phil thinks once he lays his head on the pillow come nighttime, is what’s worth keeping in his life. Tom’s relentless support is right there for him if Phil’s willing to accept it, just like Anja’s support has always been there. Maybe at this point in his life, it’s time for Phil to accept the love from those around him, and to give it back in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Accept Yourself by The Smiths


	11. Chapter 11

Dan is standing outside the library. Phil can tell it’s him, leaning against the window, just from the sight of his back against the smudged glass. 

Phil’s just finished work for the day. He’s meant to be going to see Dan at his flat. But Dan is here. Of course he is.

Phil hurries outside. The library was not built for the warmth of August. The difference when he finally takes a breath of outside air staggering; it feels like the first breath he’s taken all day. He loses it just as quickly when he turns his head to lock eyes with Dan. Because Dan’s eyes are crinkling in the corners from a genuine smile. He looks good. His skin is practically glowing. Phil couldn’t tell yesterday, beneath the dull ceiling lamps in the library, but in the afternoon sun there’s nothing to obscure Dan’s beauty. It’s all on display for Phil to visually feast on.

“Hi,” Phil says, exhales. “You’re here.”

Dan is wearing one of his classic boxy white t-shirts, tucked loosely into his close-fitted gray jeans. Phil is powerless to stop his eyes from wandering to the length of Dan’s neck, over the layer of moisture that makes his skin glisten. His clavicle and his skinny chest and-Phil needs to stop. A minute ago, he was tired out of his mind after working in a quite literally suffocating environment. Now he’s the opposite. He feels like he’s ready to pounce. At what, he isn’t so sure.

“Or am I?” Dan asks, grinning from ear to ear.

Phil gets a sudden urge to hug him. Just hug him. Instead, Phil laughs, takes a step closer, and pokes Dan’s naked arm. It’s brief and dumb, but Phil’s heart picks up in speed regardless.

“You feel real to me,” Phil says, tilting his head to the side.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Dan folds his arms over his chest.

He nods forwards, at the direction back to his. They fall into step without another word, walking fast like they’re both just as desperate to be behind closed doors. Phil isn’t sure what would even happen there, what they would say that they can’t say out in the open, but it’s _something_. Just being this close to Dan seems wrong in broad daylight.

“I thought we were meeting at yours,” Phil says, just to say something.

Dan looks at him. Something about his eyes tells Phil that he’s been caught off guard. Phil has no idea what there would be to catch. Dan shrugs.

“No work,” he says. “Bored. Figured it might be good to actually go outside.”

There’s something defensive about his tone. Phil wants to defuse it immediately.

“Yeah!” he agrees, probably too enthusiastic. “That is good!”

Dan chuckles. Phil glances at him. In the afternoon sun, it’s impossible to miss the little red patch on the side of his face, lighting up like an alarm while the rest of his face goes pink.

“Yup,” Dan says.

It feels like they’re sharing a secret now. One that is too good to be true. Because behind all the words spoken out loud, Dan’s demeanor only tells Phil one thing; that Dan missed him. Dan missed him, and he’s too embarrassed to say it out loud. Phil can’t stop himself from smiling. He glances at him again, and Dan glances back. Then they quickly look away.

_“It’s kind of like me and Vicky,”_ Anja’s words echo in Phil’s head.

Dan’s knuckles brush against Phil’s briefly. When Phil looks up at his face, Dan appears to be way more resolute than he was before. He meant to do that. He isn’t pretending like he didn’t. In a moment of bravery, Phil links their pinky fingers. He lets go just as quickly, but he did it. Dan didn’t jerk his hand away. Instead, he is smiling widely again. Innocent and hopeful and absolutely gorgeous.

_”Maybe,”_ Phil’s reply replays in his mind.

This feels like much more than just ‘maybe’. 

“Look at that,” Dan giggles, pointing.

Phil looks over to discover a young boy, sitting on the pavement next to a building. Next to him there’s a woman tapping her foot. The boy is unbothered by the woman’s obvious stress. He’s busy looking at a bird just a metre away from him. It’s a robin, Phil thinks. It’s hard to tell from the distance. The boy is just looking at it, enthralled. He isn’t trying to spook it or urge it closer. Maybe Phil could learn something from him. 

“Cute,” Phil says.

“Best buds,” Dan grins.

Phil smiles back and pushes his hands into his jeans pockets. Right now, he doesn’t feel afraid.

-

Eventually, they get to Dan’s building. Phil follows Dan up the stairs. He’s been doing most of the talking for the remainder of the walk. He’s not typically the type to be able to blabber unless he’s with close friends, hardly even then as of late, but right now there seems to be no stopping him. He tells boring work stories that sound way more interesting coming out his mouth than they do in his head, especially when Dan laughs. Dan laughs a lot. Phil thinks it’s nice to talk to someone that knows when he’s joking.

He’s quiet when Dan opens the door to the flat. He’s still quiet when they enter. Dan tosses the key on a small dresser next to the door. He glances at the mirror and pauses. Phil closes the door behind himself whilst Dan tugs at strands of his hair, willing them into place. Or rather, correctly out of place. It makes Phil giggle once he eventually finds himself waiting for Dan to fully step into the flat. Not that Phil can judge him. If he looked like Dan he’d probably fancy looking in the mirror a lot more than he does currently.

Dan breaks out of whatever trance he was in when he hears Phil laugh. There’s that caught off guard look again, plain to see, but the frown smooths out as quickly as it appeared when Dan smiles.

The fact that they are now behind closed doors hits them at the same time. Their eyes remain glued on one another. The silence is tense. Not awkward, or even uncomfortable, necessarily. It’s something entirely different. All Phil knows is that he’s trying with all his might not to look down at Dan’s clavicle, or chest, or lower. At the same time, Dan looks just as frozen to the spot right now as Phil feels. It’s usually Dan that breaks this kind of tension, isn’t it? Is there a ‘usually’ about this sort of tension between them to begin with?

Phil takes a step forward and opens his arms, the gentlest invitation, and Dan accepts. They wrap their arms around each other. Phil tucks his chin over Dan’s shoulder. He feels entirely engulfed by Dan’s embrace in a way that he hasn’t before. He feels as though he’s the smaller one, being held, and it makes his heart pound even heavier.

Dan smells good. Masculine. That, combined with how small Phil feels, is like a rush with no end. Phil’s just going to keep spinning out of control and unravel. It’s everything he’s been told he shouldn’t be next to another person. Smaller, taken care of, held. There is a level of taboo in that that Phil finds wildly intoxicating.

Lips brush over a spot behind Phil’s ear. A breath is exhaled against him. It’s so warm. Every little hair on Phil’s body is standing up. His damn fingers are tingling. He clutches the back of Dan’s t-shirt, driven by the need to hold on to something solid. He ends up nuzzling against the side of Dan’s face. 

It’s so intimate.

Phil is... _so hard_. He’s physically aching between the legs. He’s _desperate._

Dan takes a step back. Phil lets go of him and swallows, blinking, trying to make sense of reality. Dan isn’t scared. Phil can tell because that’s what he looks for when he zeroes in on any possible tells; his eyes, his hands, his mouth. Then his mind wanders into other things he could possibly do with those hands, with that mouth--

“I need a wee!” Phil exclaims.

His face goes so hot he fears he’ll get a third degree burn. Dan doesn’t even laugh.

“Okay,” he says.

He looks dazed, but eventually he gathers enough sense to walk inside the tiny flat to give Phil room to enter the toilet right next to the hallway. The bathroom is so tiny, Phil can hardly move in it. That’s kind of what everything feels like right now. Like there’s not enough room.

As soon as Phil locks the door behind himself, reality comes back into view.

It’s right in front of him; in the mirror that tells him his hair is getting out of control and that he’s still blushing. Every physical part of him that touched Dan are like electric fields, sparking, longing to get back to him. Phil opens the lid on the toilet and pulls his dick out. He actively refuses to touch it. If he does, he won’t be able to stop, and he’s not about to have a wank when Dan’s in the other room.

He takes level breaths until his erection goes down enough so that he can actually pee. He’s fucking terrified of returning to Dan. He embarrassed himself enough to last a year’s worth of humiliating nightmares.

He stalls with his hand on the door knob after he’s finished washing his hands. There is no way of knowing whether he’ll walk back into that heat or if Dan has retreated. Both scenarios are scary in different ways. Phil twists the door knob slowly, wondering for each second that passes if he’s ready to face whatever’s on the other side of this door. He has no choice but to exit the toilet, no choice but to deal with everything.

Neither happens. A strong smell hits Phil as soon as he enters the tiny bedroom, or living room, and it redirects his thought process. He isn’t sure if it smells good, all he can process is that it smells _strong_.

Dan is standing by the stove in the little kitchen, stirring something with a wooden spoon. Phil hesitates as he makes his way over to look. When he leans against the open door frame to have a peek Dan doesn’t so much as flinch. He turns his head the smallest bit and smiles. The stuff in the medium sized pot looks like a gooey orange soup with bits in it. Growing accustomed to the scent, Phil thinks that it should be fairly tasty.

“I’m actually just reheating it,” Dan says. He lets go of the spoon. “It takes a while to make. Figured you should be hungry by now.”

Phil sniffs the air, trying to make sense of the smell again. He catches a secret smile on Dan’s face.

“Have you ever had Indian before?” he asks.

Phil shrugs. “Don’t think so.”

Dan opens a drawer and takes out a ladle. There are two plates of rice on the counter.

“Think it’s heated enough,” Dan says, filling the ladle up. “You can go sit down if you’d like.”

Their eyes lock. Dan’s face is unreadable right now. Phil usually has such an easy time figuring him out, but whatever he is feeling or thinking is too foreign to Phil to have a clue about. Phil nods and goes to sit down on the armchair next to the window. It’s been months since the last time he was here, but nothing has really changed. The flat is just as neat and tidy as it was then.

Dan puts the plates down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. As he gets on the bed, he pats the space next to him.

“We both get a table if we sit here,” he says.

Imagery of straddling Dan’s hips, of leaning down to kiss him, flash in Phil’s memory. It was what he imagined being on the same bed as Dan would be like, the last time he was here. Those fantasies are more tangible now. Phil is able to imagine what it could actually feel like.

He sits down next to Dan and grabs the cutlery. He is just about to try it when he realises that Dan isn’t eating. He’s staring at Phil, intently, like he’s expecting something. Phil sits straighter, confused.

“Go on,” Dan says. “Try it.”

There is only encouragement to find in his tone. Phil obediently gets a fork full of curry covered rice in his mouth. His body tenses the moment it hits his tongue. He frantically pats the bed, looking for something to drink, and finds the glasses of water Dan brought. Phil swallows the painfully spicy food and gulps down the water. When he’s able to focus on anything other than the ball of flames currently making its way through his digestive system, he can hear Dan laugh.

No, cackle. Dan is _cackling_ loudly with utter delight, watching Phil’s antics. Phil’s face goes beet red. Unsure of what else to do, he slaps Dan on the arm.

“What is that!” he says.

Dan wipes his eyes as the laughter subsides.

“Curry,” Dan responds.

“I know that,” Phil says. “I didn’t expect it to taste like fire!”

“I’m sorry,” Dan says. He doesn’t sound sorry in the least. “I didn’t know--I would’ve eased up on the seasoning if I knew you weren’t used to spicy food.”

Phil huffs. He doesn’t want to be lame.

“No need,” he grumbles. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Your face then,” Dan says, unleashing another fit of giggles. “God. I wish I took a photo.”

Dan sounds so happy that Phil can’t even be cross. He still narrows his eyes at him though, scrunching his nose up.

“Oh, Phil,” Dan says as he looks at him. “You’re crying.”

“I’m not,” Phil immediately protests.

But then Dan wipes Phil’s cheek, gathering up wetness there. Dan’s eyes are so full of emotion. Phil goes silent, staring at Dan, as Dan seemingly gets lost in drying Phil’s face.

“There we go,” Dan says with a gentle smile. “All better now.”

“I wasn’t crying,” Phil repeats.

“Yes you were,” Dan insists.

“No. It was just because of the food.”

Dan doesn’t look convinced. He also looks like he’s absolutely taking the piss.

“Really?” he asks in a sickly sweet voice. “I think you did get a bit emotional then.”

Phil shouldn’t find that as attractive as he does. That playful lilt, those beady eyes that try to convey some false innocence.

“Dan,” Phil huffs.

“What?”

“Repeat after me.” Phil is speaking slowly, like Dan won’t get it otherwise. “‘Phil wasn’t crying’.”

Dan snorts, rolls his eyes.

“Phil wasn’t crying,” he repeats in a robotic voice. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Phil smiles.

The second bite isn’t nearly as bad as the first, but Phil still has to be careful while eating. He doesn’t want to look weak in front of Dan. Not with the way Dan’s still glancing at him, nudging him with his shoulder, as he watches him eat. Dan doesn’t have nearly as much trouble as Phil. He’s done with the meal when Phil still has half of it left.

“Mate, your eyes are so red,” Dan says.

Phil shakes his head, blinking rapidly as if that will make his eyes return to normal.

“Fuck you,” he says around another mouthful.

“Is it really horrible?” Dan asks. This time he sounds sincere.

“No!” Phil says it quickly. He doesn’t want a second to go by in which Dan believes Phil dislikes his cooking. “I like it! I’m just not used to it.”

Dan nods. Then he starts laughing again.

“I _really_ need a picture,” he says.

Phil huffs in response. But then Dan gets up, towards the bookcase, and fetches an actual camera. He fiddles with it for a bit, for long enough that Phil calms down significantly. That is until Dan turns around, positions himself on his knees on the other side of the coffee table, and points the camera at him.

“Dan,” Phil says, covering his face.

“Hey, stop that,” Dan complains.

Phil shakes his head. “You’re not wasting a photo on me eating curry.”

Dan puts the camera down. When Phil uncovers his face, Dan’s smiling.

“I want to,” he says.

He sounds shy. He chews carefully on his bottom lip. From the looks of it, his head is overflowing with thoughts.

“You’re not going to want a dumb picture of some random guy in your photo albums,” Phil chuckles. “Future Dan won’t appreciate that.”

Dan’s smile fades. Phil, again, can’t interpret the emotion on his face. So he takes another bite, and exaggerates his reaction, just to make Dan laugh.

“You’re wrong,” Dan says. “Dan in 2020 will have this picture framed. Never do I want to forget the day my mate Phil proper cried because of some curry.”

Phil splutters, trying to wrap his head around the idea of life thirty six years from now. Dan points the camera at him again.

“You’re wasting your money,” Phil says.

“Shut up and look miserable for me,” Dan retorts.

Phil concedes by looking just as miserable as Dan wants him to. It isn’t easy to do when all Phil wants to do is smile. Despite just how teasing and stupid Dan is, and the fact that his mouth is still burning, he wants to smile so hard his cheeks hurt.

Dan snaps the photo. Phil isn’t sure what face he was making then. All he could really focus on was Dan’s hands, wrapped tightly around the sides of the camera. Steady. Sure. That and his smile, where Phil could see the side of his face as Dan peered into the viewfinder.

The flash makes Phil see spots. Dan catches the photo as it’s pushed out on the front of the camera. Phil reaches out, fingers brushing against Dan’s. Dan jerks away.

“I want to see,” Phil whines.

“Not yet,” Dan says.

He gets up, carefully placing the photo upside down on a tablecloth in the bookcase. He puts a book on top of it and turns around, apparently satisfied. Phil raises an eyebrow.

“It comes out better if you put it in the dark first,” Dan says. “Like a modern dark room?”

“Got to make sure that masterpiece comes out perfectly,” Phil deadpans.

Dan sits down next to him again. He sits close, closer than necessary, shoulder to shoulder with Phil. Phil puts the cutlery down on the plate and meets the intimacy of Dan’s gaze.

“Definitely,” Dan purrs. He looks down at Phil’s lips, then back up at his eyes. “It’s going to be displayed in museums one day.”

Phil’s heart is pounding fast and hard. Dan wets his lips. They’re so close that Phil can feel Dan’s breath against his face. Dan’s hand slides down Phil’s thigh. Gentle, but sure. Phil swallows. He isn’t supposed to do this. He isn’t supposed to let Dan take the lead. He can’t lead Dan down the same path he himself went down when he was too young to know better.

But Dan is intoxicating, and Phil is getting hard, and they are so, so close now.

Until the telephone rings.

They both jump, moving apart as though someone burst into Dan’s flat, catching them red handed. Dan looks dazed like he did earlier, and Phil feels just as warm, just as horny, just as conflicted.

Dan gets up without a word, takes the phone off the hook and holds it to his ear.

“Hello?” he says.

It’s like when Phil first called him. Dan doesn’t say his name when answering the phone, for some reason.

Dan turns around as he speaks quietly into the phone. Phil grabs a pillow from behind himself and places it on top of his lap, scooting backwards to sit more comfortably on the bed. He’s not sure his erection will ever go down at this point.

It doesn’t take long for Dan to end the call. He stalls, putting the phone back on the hook, then looks back at Phil.

“Who was it?”

Phil probably shouldn’t ask, but he doesn’t know what else to say. They can’t exactly continue where they left off.

“My girlfriend,” Dan says.

The colour drains from Phil’s face. His hands go numb.

“I mean my ex-girlfriend,” Dan quickly recovers. He looks and sounds quite panicked. “Sorry. I guess I’m still not used to--”

It feels like a cold shower. All of Phil’s senses are back to normal. His body is no longer solely focusing on the blood rushing to his penis, or on how pretty Dan looks.

In just a second, everything’s changed.

“When did you break up?” Phil asks.

He doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, but he can’t not.

“This summer,” Dan shrugs. “We’ve been on and off for years. This is it, though. We’re just friends now.”

Phil’s breathing is getting faster. He’s not sure what’s happening inside. His body is reacting while his mind has barely had time to process this new information. Everything inside of him yells ‘leave’, but he’s frozen, stuck on Dan’s bed with a stupid bloody pillow covering his crotch.

“Okay,” is all he can think of to say.

Dan grabs the plates from the coffee table and takes them to the kitchen. The quiet really feels like quiet now. What used to fill it before is gone, like someone pulled off the stopper and now all the tension is swirling down the drain.

Phil folds his legs, wrapping his arms around his shins. At least this is sobering. Like with Tom, Phil’s just a fork in the road, a path in the crossroad that guys can entertain for a little while before they come to their senses.

When Dan comes back to sit next to him, the distance between them feels miles long.

“Thanks for the food,” Phil says, scooting forward to the edge of the bed.

Dan frowns. “What, you’re leaving now?”

The room is no longer empty. It fills up with something else. Whatever it is, it makes Phil want to cry.

“Um, no.” 

Phil’s voice is so small. He’s not sure what’s expected of him at this moment. He doesn’t know what he wants to do, other than give in to the immediate impulse to protect himself.

“You can if you want to,” Dan says. Phil doesn’t like the sound of it in the slightest. “I won’t force you to stay.”

Somewhere in the defensive, hard tone Phil hears a tremble. It makes him sit back against the wall again, decidedly, crossing his arms over the pillow.

“No,” Phil shakes his head. “I’m-I’m staying.”

If there’s anything stronger than his impulse to protect himself, it is the impulse to protect Dan. He can’t leave when there’s a risk of Dan feeling hurt otherwise. He can’t leave this in the space they’re in now. It doesn’t feel like them.

“We really are broken up,” Dan says quietly. He isn’t looking at Phil. “Indefinitely. We don’t want the same things. We won’t ever properly work it out.”

Phil has no idea what any of that means. “So you really tried? You… like her?”

Dan looks back at him. “Well, yeah? I loved her.”

It cuts Phil like a knife. But Dan reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it like he really wants Phil to feel it. Phil doesn’t know why, but he squeezes back. He feels desperate to hold on to this connection, and at the same time, he’s convinced that nothing good could ever come out of it now.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says. “That must be tough.”

Dan links their fingers.

“Yeah,” Dan murmurs. “Thanks. I’m alright, though. I want to stay here.”

A beat. For a moment, Dan’s eyes reveal everything. Phil wishes he was smart enough to understand what ‘everything’ really means.

“In Manchester, I mean,” Dan says. “She’s still in Wokingham.”

Phil swallows. Dan looks at his lips. Why won’t he ever stop looking at Phil’s lips?

“Did you want to listen to the single?” Dan asks.

“The what?” Phil blurts.

Dan lets go of his hand and pulls out a record from the stack beneath his bedside table and shows it to Phil. The cover is all in shades of green; a photo of a man only wearing underwear, sat on a mattress in what looks like an otherwise empty room, resting his forehead against his palm. Behind him, there’s a large rectangular box. The upper right corner says ‘The Smiths’.

Phil had forgotten about the fact that they were meant to listen to it.

“Oh,” he says. “Right. Yeah, of course. Play it.”

A flash of hope spears through the sadness in Dan’s face. It makes Phil’s heart want to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Stretch Out And Wait by The Smiths
> 
> Hi! We're one month into posting and I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you. Your comments and enthusiasm for the story mean so much to me. 💙🐦
> 
> Also, make sure to take a look at this [mood board](https://intoapuddle.tumblr.com/post/616102063467839488/what-thank-you-so-much-v) created by tumblr user chaotic-phan. It really captures the feeling of this story. :'')


	12. Chapter 12

Dan turns around and puts the record on the record player on top of the bedside table. It looks like a proper thing, an actual good one.

“Have you really not listened to it yet?” Phil asks.

Dan fiddles with the needle, pausing to look back at Phil with a put upon expression.

“I really haven’t,” he insists. “I wanted to--” He closes his mouth, swallows, decides. “I wanted to listen to it for the first time with you.”

Phil doesn’t think he deserves that type of loyalty. All he feels like he’s done all night is make Dan feel sad, or confused. Maybe that’s just the role Phil plays in his life. Maybe the connection Phil feels with him is entirely in his head. Because everyone but Phil gets to decide about this sort of thing. They can choose not to give in to all of this. Phil is the only one that’s entirely trapped.

“Aw,” Phil says, smiling weakly. “How sweet.”

It makes Dan smile for real. “Shut up, you plonker.”

“You really care about me that much,” Phil continues to tease. “Even more than Morrissey.”

He shouldn’t be doing this. He should just let go. But that smile, the blush on Dan’s cheeks, is irresistable. Phil can’t help but push.

He’s rewarded by Dan snorting a silent laugh. “What, you’re jealous of him?”

It sounds like a joke, so Phil takes it like a joke. Dan puts the needle down and the first out of the three new songs plays. Dan sits back and makes himself comfortable next to Phil. They’re shoulder to shoulder again.

“Not unless you like him better than me,” Phil grins.

He looks at Dan’s hands, folded on top of his thighs. A voice inside begs him to grab one.

“Then good,” Dan says. “Because I don’t.”

He sounds stern. There are no ‘maybes’ to find in that statement. Phil’s about to respond when Dan shushes him, reaching out to grab his knee to really get his point across.

“Quiet now,” he says. “I want to listen.”

Dan’s hand slides off Phil’s knee. Phil feels completely unable to focus on the music. They sit down on opposite sides of the bed. Dan leans against the headboard and Phil leans against the side of the bookshelf at the very end of the bed. Phil looks at Dan’s face, at the long curls falling over his forehead, at the jaw that’s still round, soft. He thinks about Dan’s ex-girlfriend, and what ‘wanting different things’ truly meant to them. It couldn’t just be the distance. They’re remaining friends while far apart. Surely if they loved each other, one or the other would sacrifice their town to be together.

It all seems like so much to sit on Dan’s dainty shoulders. When the song ends, Dan reaches out and pulls the needle off the record.

“Wasn’t there another song?” Phil asks.

“We have to process this one first,” Dan says, like it’s obvious.

“Process it?” Phil repeats. “What?”

“You can’t just move on when it’s only three songs,” Dan explains. He fiddles with a loose thread on the seam of his jeans. “Got to fully experience it. Appreciate it. You know?”

He looks back up at Phil.

“You just don’t want me to leave yet,” Phil jokes. “‘Cause I’m your favourite.”

He grins, tongue poking out between his teeth, deliberately childish and teasing. It’s better to do that than to entertain the thoughts that are quickly rushing into his head, all different variations of scenarios in which he’s on top of Dan.

“You are,” Dan says, not matching Phil’s playfulness at all.

Dan continuously surprises Phil with his bluntness. Phil pauses, unsure of how to respond.

“Now what did you think of the song?” Dan asks.

He does that. He says these important things, like agreeing that Phil is his favourite, only to then move the conversation along like it was nothing. Like it didn’t put Phil’s thoughts into motion, dissecting the inflection to see if Dan really meant it like Phil wants him to mean it.

“Good,” Phil says. He barely remembers how it went.

Dan stays quiet. Phil twists his hands in his lap. “What did you think?”

“Wait, that’s it?” Dan asks. “‘Good’?”

“Well, yeah,” Phil says. “So far. I don’t know, I was distracted.”

“Distracted?” Dan asks in disbelief. “By what? We were just sitting here silentl-”

Phil nudges Dan’s foot with his own. Their legs could so easily tangle together right now, sitting in front of one another on the bed. He keeps his foot on top of Dan’s, and Dan goes quiet. The patch on the side of his face goes bright red again. Phil can tell even in the poor lighting from the floor lamp in the corner of the room.

“Phil,” Dan breathes.

Phil should run. But he doesn’t. “Play the next song,” he says instead.

Dan puts the needle back on the record. The next song plays. A simple acoustic guitar plays in the background when Morrissey begins to sing. His voice is more prominent on this track; a slower, more melodic, melancholy song.

_Good time for a change_   
_See, the luck I’ve had, can make a good man turn bad_

Unlike the first song, Phil is able to fully make out the lyrics. He doesn’t look at Dan this time. He looks at the record spin around as the needle moves. Dan’s foot goes on top of Phil’s.

_So please, please, please_   
_Let me, let me, let me_   
_Let me get what I want_   
_This time_

Morrissey’s voice is almost uncomfortable to listen to in its genuine vulnerability. Especially when Phil is sitting so close to Dan, listening to lyrics that could’ve been squeezed right out of Phil’s own heart.

_Haven’t had a dream in a long time_   
_See the life I’ve had, can make a good man bad_

_So for once in my life_   
_Let me get what I want_   
_Lord knows it would be the first time_   
_Lord knows it would be the first time_

When the final chords ring out, Dan stops the record yet again. Phil is scared to look him in the eyes.

“What did you think of this one?” Dan asks.

“It was alright,” Phil says.

He finally looks at Dan’s face. Dan doesn’t look as playful now, not as prone to teasing. It’s harder to meet him here, in the most vulnerable places, when Phil doesn’t feel in control. Right now, inside, Phil is frantic. Part of him wants to hold on, and the other wants to let go. Regardless of what wins out, Dan will slip out of his reach. There is another person in Dan’s life that he loved, who he has been on and off with for years. A girl. An open invitation to be normal. Phil can’t compete with that. He shouldn’t want to, for Dan’s sake.

Phil wants Dan. He’s not in control of that feeling. It’s just there, ready to crush him at any given moment.

“Yeah,” Dan says. “Next one?”

“Sure,” Phil says.

This song is more atmospheric. It has an almost mysterious quality to it, an original sound that Phil doesn’t think he’s heard in this way before. Phil can’t make out the lyrics in the first verse, but he can hear one thing. The tone of Morrissey’s voice, drawing out the words, sounding nothing short of seductive.

Phil nudges the underside of Dan’s foot with his toes. They look at each other. Dan smiles. Phil smiles too, he thinks.

_You shut your mouth_   
_How can you say_   
_I go about things the wrong way?_   
_I am human and I need to be loved_   
_Just like everybody else does_

There would be no way of missing any single punctuated word in the chorus. It’s like a slap in the face, each one after the other, and Phil can’t feel that and look Dan in the eyes at the same time. Touch him at the same time. Phil feels desperate to regain some control over himself, for a reasonable side of him to come forward and stop him from allowing himself to be angry at how the world makes him feel. He has to stop thinking about this world as changeable, because that hopefulness opens him up to such crushing disappointment, time and time again.

The song stops. It’s abrupt. The needle whines when Dan hurriedly pulls it off the record.

“I think that’s enough,” he says.

He sits back, then seems to change his mind. He gets on his knees and walks forward, to Phil. He puts his hands on Phil’s knees, urging them apart. Phil’s mouth is dry. Dan’s eyes are dark. He situates himself between Phil’s bent legs, thighs against Phil’s hips.

Phil is aggressively turned on. He wants to push the pillow down harder against his crotch. He wants to grind against it.

Dan’s palms skate down slowly over Phil’s thighs, leaving a trace of tingles in their wake. Phil’s entire body feels electric. He has phantom sensations going everywhere, getting more intense the farther down Dan’s hands go.

Phil thinks he’s going to die, when Dan’s hands land on his hips. They squeeze at the flesh surrounding his hip bones. Phil groans audibly, putting his own hands on top of Dan’s, pushing them to grab him harder. When Dan looks at Phil there is a fire in his eyes. Phil has caught a glimpse of it before but it was never like this.

Being on a bed with someone hasn’t felt like this since Tom. Phil has had moments where he has wanted, before. The difference between this moment and those moments is that in those moments he knew there was no possibility of getting what he wanted. He resigned himself to that and though he didn’t enjoy feeling deprived of something, he’s become used to it. 

He isn’t used to this.

He isn’t used to a boy that stumbled into his life seemingly by chance, grabbing his hips. He isn’t used to allowing himself to look at someone’s face for long enough to notice and appreciate the brown freckles scattered like glitter under one of his deep brown eyes. He isn’t used to feeling that, like he’s allowed, because that person is looking back at him with the same level of intensity.

Phil hardly notices it when it starts to happen. Suddenly, Dan is closer and closer and then he’s leaning in. Phil’s throat goes tight. His stomach hurts. His mind is in an uproar over what is about to actually happen and before he knows it he’s pushing Dan’s chest, hard enough to make him to sit back on his shins, creating a distance between them.

“What are you doing?” Phil asks.

His voice is shallow, powerless, to his own ears. Dan looks like Phil has felt so many times before. Resigned. Like he’s used to rejection. Phil’s stomach still hurts.

“What are _you_ doing?” Dan shoots back.

He sounds angry enough for Phil to be scared he might have fucked everything up. Dan’s feelings might be hurt. The intensity lingers, though. Dan is waiting for an answer Phil can’t give.

Then Dan grabs Phil’s hands. They rest on top of the pillow covering Phil’s stomach. The gentle push downwards creates the slightest friction between Phil’s legs, making his hips stutter. Dan gasps.

Phil has to put an end to this. Now.

He takes a hold of Dan’s shoulder and pushes. He pushes until Dan is forced to fall onto his back, and suddenly Phil is straddling Dan’s stomach. There is both fear and desire in Dan’s eyes. Right now, all Phil can feel is frustration. He tosses the pillow to the floor and breathes hard, loud, as he tries to force himself not to want this.

“You really think you’re stronger than me?” Dan asks, breathless.

A surprised laugh escapes Phil. Dan smiles. Phil’s stomach swoops with eagerness. The bomb is ticking out of time. The stopper has been put back into place, filling the air between them with a tension that is a hundred times more suffocating than before.

“Think?” Phil shoots back, grabbing Dan’s shoulders more tightly for emphasis. “Look at how we’re sitting.”

Dan smiles and accepts the challenge. 

He takes a hold of Phil’s shoulders and somehow he manages to overpower him. He pushes Phil back against the mattress with a smug grin. Their hands are awkward, pushing and pulling at each other’s t-shirt in a frankly pathetic battle for dominance. It’s not long before they’re breathing harder from the exertion, but Phil finds his moment. He digs his fingers into Dan’s sides and Dan shrieks as he squirms. Phil laughs, grabbing a hold of Dan’s sides while he’s been weakened, and gets on top.

He’s straddling Dan’s hips when he finds himself noticing how firm Dan’s chest feels to touch. He grabs Dan’s hands instead. He pushes them against the mattress above Dan’s head and hovers over him, smug. His mind momentarily left the confusing state of resistance as he focused on getting the upper hand, so much so that he almost forgot the matter at hand. This isn’t really a wrestling match. Dan isn’t fighting anymore.

Phil remains bent over Dan’s body. Their fingers are intertwined. They’re looking each other in the eyes and the smugness fades. There is a riot going on inside of Phil but for right now he finds himself capable of disregarding the full extent of it. For a moment, he allows himself just to want.

They’re not smiling anymore. Dan looks at Phil’s lips.

“Phil,” he says, breathes.

The bomb is going to go off any second now. Phil tightens his grip of Dan’s hands, pushing down, in an attempt to conceal what they both know is happening.

“See?” Phil says. “I am stronger.”

It’s like a pull, stronger than Phil’s mind. He’s leaning down closer to Dan’s face. Dan releases his bottom lip from where he’d sucked it in between his teeth and wets his lips. Phil finds himself doing the same.

“Yeah,” Dan whispers. “I think you are.”

Phil allows himself not only to want, but to take.

He’s scared out of his mind, but he takes.

He pushes his lips to Dan’s. It’s soft at first. Tentative, as if he’s approaching a wild animal. All it takes for it to change is for Dan to tilt his chin up a little bit, kissing back, giving the exact thing Phil has wanted for so long but never thought he’d be able to get again and then he opens his mouth for Dan’s tongue.

Oh.

Phil’s skin is on fire. His cock is throbbing in his jeans. Dan is grabbing his hands hard, so hard that Phil is reminded of the world outside of the kisses they’re sharing. It’s not a big world. Right now, it’s only hands and lips and bodies coming in close and suddenly Phil has to pull away and breathe.

He’s still only centimetres from Dan’s face.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispers with emphasis, mind spinning.

“Fuck,” Dan whispers back.

The bomb has stopped ticking, but there’s no explosion. All there is, is quiet, and Dan pressed up against Phil. Phil’s stomach is fluttering like crazy, unravelling the tension. He smiles and Dan smiles back, and nothing breaks. No one gets hurt. It’s just the two of them, giving in to something they should’ve let happen a long time ago.

When they kiss next, Dan sits up and wraps his arms around Phil’s torso. Phil arms go around Dan’s neck. His hands are awkward until they find a place in Dan’s hair and once they do he holds on for dear life. Phil feels the whine vibrate against his lips more than he hears it. It’s like running a mile, with the way Phil is so out of breath, chest heaving just from the sensation of Dan’s tongue entering his mouth and how he sucks at Phil’s bottom lip.

“Yeah,” Dan says, shifting.

Phil just goes with it. He ends up on his back. Dan is on top of him, and they’re still kissing. Phil chances a grab at Dan’s sides, clutching the material of his shirt to ground himself into reality. Their lips remain against one another’s, as sweet and innocent as they are hot and electric.

Then Dan starts humping.

It’s soft, there's almost no friction, but when Phil feels Dan’s hard cock against his own that doesn’t matter. He angles his hips up, meets every thrust. The electricity crackles between them. Somehow, the world is quiet. There’s no disaster, nothing to make this feel anything other than right. He’s just in bed with a boy he’s wanted to kiss for half a year, finally kissing him, finally rubbing up against him.

Phil can hear himself. He can hear his own breaths and his own moans, coming out in the rhythm of Dan’s movements. Dan shushes him between kisses. It’s gentle, calming, his hands in Phil’s overgrown hair. Massaging his scalp in a soothing pattern that contradicts the hardness of their cocks coming together, urgently pushing against each other to chase that feeling that’s growing stronger for every thrust.

“Dan,” Phil says. “Let me-”

He slides his hands between their bodies. Dan’s movements stop. Phil unbuttons Dan’s jeans and opens the zipper. Dan pulls away from the wet kisses. He supports himself by putting his hands on the mattress on either side of Phil’s head. His knees are tucked against the dips of Phil’s waist. They look each other in the eyes as Phil slides his hand over Dan’s cock. Dan’s face scrunches and his hips shake. He goes completely still. Phil squeezes the shaft as gently as he possibly can.

It’s been so long since he touched another person’s dick and it still feels familiar. It feels natural. The dynamics shift and now it’s Phil coaxing Dan into relaxation. He rubs Dan’s back, offering a counterpoint to the violent arousal hanging in the air.

“Go slow,” Dan whispers once he opens his eyes back up.

“Kiss me,” Phil whispers back.

Dan kisses him. Time is slowing back down. Phil rubs softly over Dan’s shaft and slips his hand inside his boxers. Open mouth breaths are exhaled against Phil’s lips. They’re not really kissing now. Dan seems unable to move his lips at the same time as Phil wraps his hand around Dan’s cock, sliding the wetness from the slit at his cockhead downwards, allowing for a smoother glide.

Phil dares to go a bit faster, a bit more rhythmic, and Dan meets the movement with a roll of his hips. Dan curses under his breath. Phil can feel Dan’s brows furrow where they’re resting against his forehead.

“I’m close,” Dan whispers.

Phil kisses him. Dan kisses back. It’s clumsy, uneven, and perfect. Phil’s hand goes faster and then Dan’s hips go harder. Phil makes the hold tighter. Dan comes with a held breath and three hard consecutive thrusts, good and deep and wet.

Phil wanks him through it when Dan slumps down next to him. He never wants to stop. He wants to feel the weight of Dan’s cock in his hand and watch him react and calm him when it gets to feeling like too much. Phil wipes his hand on Dan’s jeans. He watches his pretty face as Dan’s eyes flutter open. He never noticed how dark and long his eyelashes were before, the beautiful shadows they create under his eyes.

Dan looks absolutely blissed out.

“Let me do you,” he says.

Dan rubs between Phil’s legs. Phil is still aching. Dan’s hand is so big. The corners of Phil’s eyes fill with tears.

“Hey,” Dan says. His hand stops.

Phil lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Dan is so calm, so sure. He’s not the scared boy Phil mistook him as. There isn’t as much as a flicker of doubt to find on his face.

“Feel good?” he asks, rubbing slowly up Phil’s cock again.

Phil nods, mouth tight. Dan shifts a little bit, situating them better. Phil is straddling one of Dan’s thighs, body pressed up against his side. Dan is looking straight into Phil’s eyes the whole time. The panicked heart palpitations slow down a little bit, allowing Phil to breathe easier. He covers Dan’s hand with his own, giving it a gentle pat before he undoes his jeans and pulls himself out of his boxers. When Dan looks down, eyes full of curiosity, Phil kisses his temple. He strokes himself, releases a hard breath against Dan’s skin.

Two of Dan’s fingers slide down the side of Phil’s cock. Phil gasps. An excessive amount of precum squirts out of him. He’s about to be embarrassed, but Dan looks so excited when Phil pulls back enough to look at his face, so full of wonder.

“Show me?” Dan asks, tentatively wrapping his hand around Phil’s cock.

It almost hurts, just how hard Phil’s muscles clamp up and how badly he tries to suppress the full extent of the feeling. He holds on to Dan’s wrist and starts to rub it up and down himself.

“Tighter,” he grits out between his teeth.

Dan makes his fist tighter. He looks into Phil’s eyes with that admiration he sometimes subjects him to and in this moment it’s the hottest thing Phil has ever seen.

“Yeah,” Phil breathes. He gives Dan’s lips a chaste peck. “It feels good.”

“Faster?” Dan asks in a low voice.

Phil nods, capturing Dan’s lips with his own. Dan pushes his tongue inside Phil’s mouth as he wanks Phil faster, keeping that delicious tight grip. They roll sideways, so that Phil lies on his back and Dan strokes him fast and tight and hard. He bites at Phil’s bottom lip. Phil lets out a long groan, taking a hold of Dan’s wrist again, stopping him.

“Longer strokes,” he murmurs. “But fast.”

Dan nudges his nose against Phil’s. Phil lets out a breathy laugh.

“I like this,” Dan whispers. “I like _you_.”

He kisses the corner of Phil’s mouth with emotion. 

“Me too,” Phil whispers.

The strokes get longer. Phil wraps a hand around his own balls and squeezes them. His head twists to the side and it builds within him, so hard and so perfect. He comes. It leaks out over Dan’s knuckles, absolutely draining his balls. Phil’s head swims with endorphins. It fills his chest and he laughs. Dan giggles against his neck.

“That was hot,” he says. “Really... really hot.”

Phil kisses him hard on the mouth. He feels Dan wipe the wetness off his hand against Phil’s t-shirt and his heart grows with affection. He tucks himself back into his boxers. Dan pulls away from the kiss, regarding his face with such an ease, with such a carefree smile on his face.

“Was this your first time?” Phil asks. “Um.. With…”

“Yeah,” Dan says.

They look at each other quietly for a moment.

“I wasn’t your first, was I?” Dan asks.

It’s easier than Phil thought it would be, not to hide. His tight grip of those secrets has been loosening over time, quicker and quicker, and right now all Phil feels is relief. He shakes his head. He’s being honest. He’s telling Dan something he’s never told anyone before.

“You’re really good at it,” is what Dan says in response.

Phil can’t help but burst out laughing. Dan’s face goes pink. Phil kisses his adorable mouth.

“Thank you,” he says. His chest goes tight with pure joy.

They smile at each other, and slight fear creeps into the moment. Phil watches as it happens, when realisation dawns on Dan and he chews on his bottom lip, looking between Phil’s eyes. Phil takes his hand. He gives it a squeeze. Dan sighs. He puts his cheek against Phil’s chest, their hands joined on top of Phil’s stomach. 

They are still scared, but it doesn’t feel like it felt like before. Phil doesn’t feel unsure. He can’t feel unsure about something that is such a force of nature; one that he remains powerless against. None of it feels wrong or odd or queer. Just like when he was with Tom, this part of it is simple. It’s beautiful.

Phil stares up at the cracks in the ceiling. He can feel Dan’s gaze on him. It’s so warm. He looks down at his face. Dan’s face is glowing in shades of yellow and red as the golden hour lights up the flat. Phil pets Dan’s hair. He wraps a curl around his index finger. Dan leans into the touches. His eyes are so beautiful. His lips are so gorgeous, plump. Phil is allowing himself to think these thoughts. He has allowed himself to kiss those lips.

“You’re so cute,” Phil says.

His voice sounds choked. Concern furrows Dan’s brow.

“I’m fine,” Phil says. “It’s just…”

He gestures at nothing. Then he puts that hand on Dan’s cheek. He brushes his thumb over the smooth skin, in the pattern of Dan’s brown little freckles.

“Yeah,” Dan says. He smiles, but it’s not an easy smile. It’s everything. Phil thinks he might be starting to understand what ‘everything’ really means.

Dan turns his head and kisses Phil’s thumb. Phil takes a deep breath.

“Did you know before you met me?” Phil asks.

It’s eating at him. The idea of protecting Dan from this, that he is somehow corrupting him by introducing him to what this really feels like.

“Yeah,” Dan says. “I’ve known since I was thirteen.”

Phil releases a breath. Dan kisses the palm of his hand.

“And you liked your girlfriend?” Phil asks. “Like, in the real way?”

“Mmh,” Dan nods.

He nuzzles into Phil’s hand. He looks adorable. Like he can’t quite get enough of the touches. Like a small puppy.

Phil’s heart drops. He’s scared. He’s scared that Dan will like a girl and leave him because it’s easier. It terrifies him so much that he feels sick to his stomach. He doesn’t want to be alone with this again. He can’t be.

“I don’t want her, though,” Dan looks straight into Phil’s eyes as he says it. “I want you.”

He sits up, taking Phil with him.

“But why?” Phil asks. “Isn’t it easier?”

Dan looks pained for a moment. There’s a story being retold in his mind, one that Phil doesn’t have access to.

“It doesn’t work like that,” is all Dan says.

Phil doesn’t push it further. He doesn’t want to make Dan feel misunderstood. Phil knows what that’s like. He wouldn’t want to make anyone else feel that way.

“This works,” Phil whispers.

Dan leans in. It feels like the first time again, as their fingers link and their lips brush, breathing each other in. Phil closes the gap. They kiss long, and slow. It’s good. It’s right. Dan pulls away.

“This works,” he agrees.

That is what Phil will let this be framed as, in the scared little corner of his mind. It just works. Dan wants him. 

They trade long held kisses well into the night hours. Eventually their clothes come off and they’re skin to skin. The new Smiths songs play in the background as Phil makes himself comfortable between Dan’s legs, kisses his thighs, and takes him into his mouth. The songs sound even better next to the sound of Dan’s breathing going quicker until it stops as he comes. His thighs shake. A loud groan escapes his lips.

Phil could stay in Dan’s bed for eternity and be able to call that a life well lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Song:** Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths
> 
> Hello :3 Today twitter user @sammmflint shared a song they wrote, inspired by Time's Tide! Do yourself a favour and check it out [here](https://twitter.com/sammmflint/status/1253901756049887232). It's so beautiful and it fits amazingly with today's chapter. Thank you so much, Sam!! 💙🐦


	13. Chapter 13

Phil barely sleeps at all.

He doesn’t want to. For the first time in a long time, Phil is enjoying his life too much to waste it on sleeping. 

They showered and put on pants, brushed their teeth, and went back under the covers. Dan’s flat is covered in darkness. Phil had a long day. It was so intense he should be struggling to stay awake.

He isn’t.

Now that they’re clean, Dan’s back feels even softer against Phil’s chest. He’s so smooth. His chest and stomach are almost completely hairless. Phil can’t stop himself from running his hand up and down his front. Dan may be skinny, but he doesn’t feel bony. He’s got some pudge on his tummy that feels so intimate to touch. Phil just wants to hold on and squeeze and bite.

Being this close still makes Phil’s heart race. He can’t sleep with a racing heart.

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” Dan mumbles. Phil pauses where his fingers are gracing his pubic line. “‘m getting hard.”

Dan pushes his ass against Phil for emphasis. Phil does everything in his might not to push back against him. Dan is warm and soft and pliant, but Phil refuses to be presumptuous.

“Mmh,” Dan sighs. He drags Phil’s hand up his chest, then down his stomach. “You too?”

He pushes against him again, as if to check. Phil groans. His forehead falls against the back of Dan’s neck. Dan doesn’t push hard. He just rolls his hips back, making sure his ass brushes against Phil’s front just so. It’s deliberate and teasing.

It’s new.

For as much as Phil did with Tom, neither of them put that body part into the picture. Phil never thought he’d want to. Everything he’s ever heard about that sort of thing has made the idea of even touching someone else’s ass seem revolting.

This is everything but revolting.

Phil’s hips decide on their own when he pushes them up against Dan. Dan goes completely still. Maybe that wasn’t okay. Maybe he _was_ being presumptuous. Phil’s breathing stops.

The world unpauses when Dan guides Phil’s hand down between his legs. Phil tentatively pushes up against him again. Dan makes him squeeze his shaft. Phil rubs down Dan’s dick over his pants. He gets to the balls and grips them firmly. Dan makes a choked off noise. Phil rubs back up along Dan’s cock. It’s getting stiffer for every second passing.

“Do you think we can come like this?” Dan whispers.

He pushes back against Phil again. Phil hesitantly meets the movement. He’s afraid to misread Dan’s intentions. He doesn’t want him to think he’s going to do anything more than this. But this time, Dan meets Phil’s slow thrusts. They end up grinding together while Phil strokes Dan’s cock.

“Is that even a question?” Phil giggles breathlessly.

If he really set his mind to it, he’d be able to come within seconds. Dan’s ass is so soft. Phil can feel his dick nestled between the cheeks, even though there’s clothing separating them. That is so sinfully erotic. It takes Phil’s breath away.

“No,” Dan grins. 

He turns his head. Phil props himself up on an elbow to look down at him. Without his glasses, it’s hard to make out Dan’s face in the darkness. It makes Phil feel a little braver. He doesn’t think he’d dare to move with him like this if he could properly look Dan in the eyes.

“You’re squinting,” Dan comments.

Phil squeezes Dan’s balls. Dan’s hips stutter and he lets out a breath.

“I can’t see without my glasses,” Phil says. He smooths out his face so he won’t look stupid.

“I guess you have to come closer,” Dan says with a smug smile.

Phil grins and leans down. Their mouths are already open when they collide in a slow, wet kiss. After already coming twice tonight Phil feels better able to savour this. He can stroke Dan’s cock and press up between his cheeks and suck on his tongue all at the same time without being afraid to lose control. 

Dan seems to be on another level of arousal, though. He grabs Phil’s hand, stopping it from moving, as he whines softly into Phil’s mouth. Phil hums in response. Dan is too precious for his own good. 

Dan keeps Phil’s hand still while Phil continues to thrust up against him. Dan’s hips move in turn, causing him to grind into Phil’s hand. Something about knowing that the movement of his hips is the cause for everything makes Phil’s arousal go from hot to burning. His thrusts get tighter, shorter, faster.

“Ah,” Dan moans. “You’re so sexy.”

Phil blushes hard enough that even his ears feel hot. For a second it throws him off. He slows back down and pulls away from the kiss.

“Is something wrong?” Dan whispers.

It’s embarrassing. Phil’s heart is racing for more reasons than just arousal.

“No, it’s nothing,” he says, shaking his head.

He laughs a little when he kisses Dan again. Dan smiles against his lips.

“Okay,” Dan says, mumbles. His voice drags a bit.

Phil deepens the kiss. Dan gasps.

“So hot.” Dan is verging on blabbering now. “You feel so good against me.”

It sounds like something pulled straight from some elaborate fantasy Phil would think up while wanking. It’s even hotter said out loud. Hotter, and more ridiculous. Phil isn’t sure if he’s going to laugh or come or both.

“Me too,” Phil says, swallowing all the self deprecating words on the tip of his tongue. “You, I mean. Not myself. That would be weird.”

They stare at each other for a beat before they dissolve into laughter. Dan with his face against the pillow and Phil muffling his mouth against Dan’s shoulder. All the while, they’re moving together. 

Phil’s not even sure why Dan is laughing but by just a quick exchange of words nothing and everything becomes absolutely hilarious. When Dan turns back, his eyes are shiny and wet.

“Mate,” Dan says as he bites back another giggle. “Don’t kill the mood.” He takes a forceful breath, pushing into Phil’s hand. His eyes are glazed over. “I’m about to come.”

Phil’s eyes squeeze shut and he whimpers. He didn’t know someone just talking could get him off like it is right now. Dan kisses the corner of his mouth. Phil opens his eyes and they go still for a moment. Quiet.

Dan pushes back against him. Hard. Trapping Phil’s cock in a space of endless friction. Phil gasps. Dan keeps pushing up and down his dick. It feels incredible.

“Yeah,” Dan moans. “Harder.”

Phil grunts. His brain is verging on animalistic in its goal oriented thinking. He grinds against Dan again. Harder, like he asked him to. Phil moves his hand over Dan’s dick. They’re pushing and grinding and somehow find the perfect pace for them both. They’re panting and breathless and moaning.

Phil leans down and kisses Dan hard on the mouth as it thunders inside of him. He can feel Dan, leaking through his pants and stiff as a board. He’s just as well on his way there as Phil is. There is no thought Phil can think right now, no sensation he can lean into, that won’t make him come his brains out.

“God, yes.” Dan licks into Phil’s mouth. “Fuck me harder.”

Phil thought he had some semblance of control left in his body, but as soon as those words leave Dan’s mouth he’s done for. He bites into Dan’s shoulder as it happens, as Dan grinds up against him almost desperately and the idea of that; the idea of Dan being desperate for it, it’s so much. Knowing that Dan wants Phil to _fuck him_ is so mind blowingly hot. Phil comes harder than he has all night. He’s mindlessly rubbing up against Dan’s ass, hips jerking, pants full of cum.

When it passes, he begins to rub Dan again. Dan pulls his wrist away, wincing.

“What-did you finish?” Phil slurs.

“Of course I bloody finished,” Dan says, voice equally as drowsy and blissed out as Phil’s. “Fuck, mate. Can’t believe you think it’s funny to be called sexy when you fuck me like that.”

There it is again. That word. Phil groans, feeling his spent dick stir in his soiled pants.

“Do you like that?” Dan asks.

He turns around, giggling, as he wraps his arms around Phil’s back and cradles him against his chest. Phil smiles into Dan’s warm skin, buzzing from the touches, the sound of Dan’s laughter, and the state of euphoria that orgasm left him in.

“It was just,” Phil says, pulling back to look at Dan’s face, “how much you wanted it.”

He says it in a secretive tone. Phil isn’t even close to being comfortable imagining himself in that position, let alone verbalising it. Dan being so comfortable feels almost wrong, and still so right.

Dan watches him, content. “So you like fucking me.”

Phil closes his eyes and slumps back against the pillow. It rushes through him. Thoughts pushing and pulling in opposite directions. 

“Not like that,” he says weakly.

Dan strokes his cheek.

“I’m not taking the piss,” he says in a soothing voice. “I like calling it that, too.”

Phil opens his eyes. This side of Dan is so new but at the same time, everything about their back and forth feels natural. Any awkward feeling from before has been wiped away because it was due to the fact that they held off from this: from the natural next step of giving into their urges.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “It’s good. It’s hot.”

Even without his glasses on Phil can tell that Dan’s expression changes. Not by a lot, but. He looks like he’s feeling everything even more deeply and at that moment, Phil realises that he does too. Everything about this is meaningful. Even when they’re laughing. Even when they’re making jokes and teasing each other. It feels profound. Phil’s entire life is changing. It’s slotting into a spot right next to Dan. It’s a spot he never wants to leave. He doesn’t feel scared about what that entails right now. It feels unquestionable. It feels right.

Dan kisses him. Finally, Phil’s heart stops racing. Finally, he can envelop himself inside Dan’s warmth without feeling high strung about it. When his heart slows down, sleep doesn’t seem so far away anymore.

They pull away from each other to remove their pants. It’s not weird. They both wipe their dicks with the still dry parts of their underwear and then toss them to the floor before they get back in each other’s arms. They’re naked and pressed up against each other and still, Phil is going to fall asleep. 

“I like you so much,” Dan whispers.

He talks a lot. Phil knew this. He just never realised that there was so much Dan wasn’t saying before.

Phil himself doesn’t have as many words to respond with. He feels them so much they get stuck in his throat. Instead he kisses Dan firmly on the mouth until he feels him soften into it. He hopes it conveys the true extent of the feeling. 

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, hearts full and beating in rhythm.

-

It’s difficult to unwrap himself from around Dan’s body the next morning. They wake up strangely entangled; two long limbed boys seemingly having tied themselves together into several advanced knots.

That’s not what makes it difficult, though. Not by a long shot. It’s the feeling of Dan’s lips, brushing sweet kisses against the underside of Phil’s jaw. It’s his hands running through Phil’s overgrown hair. It’s his eyes, looking into Phil’s as if his heart is in his hands now. Phil would much rather take on that responsibility than any boring task he’ll be faced with at the library.

Dan has work, too, though. If it weren’t for that Phil is sure Dan would’ve managed to convince him to stay in bed with him all day long. Not that Dan would explicitly ask him to do that, of course. He’d just have to pout for a second and Phil would be done for.

It’s surprisingly easy to keep from touching the moment they walk out the door. There aren’t a lot of people out at eight in the morning, but there are enough for neither of them to even think about risking it.

Phil is wearing a borrowed pair of pants and a t-shirt from Dan. The t-shirt smells like him. It hangs over Phil’s frame just like it does on Dan. He looks ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. He’s taking a small piece of Dan with him to work. It’s not enough by a long shot. Phil spends the entire day with his head in the clouds. He understands now, how some of his coworkers can be sloppy and loiter around seemingly doing nothing. When there’s something to look forward to outside of this suffocating building, thoroughness doesn’t seem nearly as important as it used to.

Dan meets him at the library once Phil’s workday ends, just like they agreed. He is almost afraid, the moment he makes his way to the front doors. It is an irrational fear that asks if, when Phil looks Dan in the eyes when they meet this time, something will have changed. Or if it’ll really feel as good as Phil remembers it.

Dan isn’t standing with his back to the window today. When Phil walks outside, Dan is sitting on the bench opposite the entrance. It’s impossible to miss him. Or maybe it is. Phil’s got Dan-vision, after all, where nothing and no one else matters. He zeroes in on him and the rest of the world disappears. There is no bleakness of a grey Manchester sky to worry about now. There are no people to hide from. There is no world to be afraid of, because this world contains Dan. 

It feels even better than anything Phil’s imagination could conjure during his workday. The moment they get back to Dan’s flat again, they’re touching. Dan flops back first onto the bed and Phil crawls between his spread legs, wraps his arms around his waist and rests his cheek against Dan’s chest. Dan pets Phil’s hair and rubs his back as they trade kisses that go from warm to hot within seconds.

There is nothing to say. Dan puts on music, they undress, they kiss and they touch. Phil comes once and Dan comes twice before they’re hungry enough to unglue themselves from one another for as long as it takes for them to get something to eat.

The rest of the week follows the same pattern. Phil only goes home once to get some things, like a toothbrush and a couple clean t-shirts and pants. He leaves a note for Anja to tell her he’s going to be away for a few days. He doesn’t state where, but he fastens the note in the corner of the bird painting, between the canvas and the frame. On the back of the note, Phil draws a whimsical sketch of a bird. It looks up at the bird on the painting, trapped in its metal bar cage. This one isn’t trapped. It’s free. It’s taking flight towards the imprisoned bird. Although the bird on the note could choose to remain free, it’s choosing to be locked in with the bird on the painting. But then, not being alone might just be another kind of freedom.

Phil’s entire life has changed. It has positioned itself right next to Dan’s. They’re moving in time with one another and even though everything is different from only a few days ago, it doesn’t feel like a change in the way changes typically do. There is nothing to adjust to. There’s only an endless world of enjoyment at Phil’s hands, straddled right beneath him on Dan’s bed. 

As it turns out, everything that came before this was what was wrong. Not the other way around. The world has finally righted itself and Phil will allow himself to indulge in it with no pretense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Shakespeare's Sister by The Smiths


	14. Chapter 14

“Did you know that I brought your jacket to the shop on purpose?”

Dan is sitting up in bed while Phil’s lying down against the pillows. His legs are stretched across Dan’s lap. They’re only wearing pants and the blinds are closed. The sole source of light comes from the two lit candles on the coffee table. The world is painted in a warm, rosy orange. Dan’s skin looks so soft.

“What?” Phil asks.

“You know, in March,” Dan elaborates. “When you were coming over to get your jacket back? Tom never really told me to bring it back into the shop. I just brought it there because I knew you’d come over to get it and I wanted another chance for us to meet.”

Phil stares at Dan’s pretty face with an expression so full of confusion that Dan bursts out laughing.

“Wait, the time when you made me dinner?” Phil asks.

“Yeah,” Dan sighs, containing his giggles.

Phil takes Dan’s hand. He shakes his head to himself.

“We barely even spoke when I came in to get it at the shop anyway,” Phil says, remembering. “We just said ‘hi’ when you handed it over and then I left.”

He had been keeping himself so tightly wound at that point. Any time he saw Dan was a mission to go against every natural thought or impulse he had. It still hurts when Phil thinks about it.

“It was worth it,” Dan says.

Phil brushes his thumb across Dan’s knuckles. A mostly silenced voice inside tells him that he’s done the wrong thing. He’s led Dan down this path. 

“It was,” Phil says, mostly to himself, in order to drown out that persistent thought. He looks back into Dan’s eyes. “It is.”

Dan nudges Phil’s legs off his lap to lie down next to him. He rests his head on Phil’s extended arm and leans in, zeroing in on Phil’s lips. Phil kisses him. His heart races as he remembers how hard he tried to resist back then. The difference to now, after giving in. It rushes through him until it makes him anxious.

“What’s wrong?” Dan whispers.

He’s so close and he’s looking at Phil so intently. Phil wets his lips, leans back in. Dan accepts the kiss. He opens his mouth for Phil’s tongue when Phil licks across the seam of his lips. Dan breaks it too soon, once again to subject Phil to that much too seeing stare. He rubs his palm over the hair on Phil’s chest.

“Really,” Dan says softly. “You can tell me.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Phil insists. He grabs Dan’s hand, squeezes it. “But you’re ridiculous.”

Dan snorts. “What? Why?”

“You made up excuses to see me more?” Phil giggles. “Even if it was just to say ‘hi’?”

Dan crinkles his nose. He looks so childish and adorable. “Someone had to pull their weight. I was beginning to think I’d only get glimpses of you at the record shop for the rest of my life.”

“The rest of your life,” Phil repeats in a stupid voice. He pushes the idea of Dan having to wait for him for him to be ready to the very back of his mind. “You really think you’ll live in the same place and work at the same shop for the rest of your life?”

“No,” Dan says. “I don’t know. I’ve been focusing more on the ‘who’ than on the ‘where’ as of late.”

Phil frowns. “On the ‘who’?”

“On the ‘who’,” Dan nods. He leans into Phil’s ear to whisper. “It’s you, you big wally.”

The uncomfortable resistance trying to make itself known in Phil’s chest finally starts to fade as he laughs. Dan kisses his cheek. Phil can feel his smile. He can feel his smile so much it bleeds into his skin, into his soul.

“You’re the big wally,” Phil says.

“If I’m the wally then you’re the rat,” Dan concludes.

“The rat? That’s worse!”

“Is it?” Dan muses. “Rats are kind of cute.”

“Cute?” Phil splutters. “What rat have you ever seen that was anything near ‘cute’?”

Dan grins and Phil knows what he’s going to say before he says it.

“I’m not-”

“You, you’re the cute rat I’ve seen!” Dan exclaims loudly, cackling an even louder evil laugh in victory.

“Shh,” Phil shushes him, but it just turns into flustered giggles.

“Oh, please.” Dan rolls his eyes. “You’ve been louder even later at night than this.”

“I have not,” Phil says.

Dan raises an amused eyebrow. “Really? What about-”

“Okay,” Phil interrupts him, face burning as he blushes. “Alright. Sure.”

Dan smiles. He kisses Phil’s frown until it fades.

“It was hot,” he murmurs. “I wanna make you sound like that again.”

He runs his hand down Phil’s stomach. It slips under the waistband of Phil’s pants, gently rubbing Phil’s soft shaft. Phil exhales a warm breath as he reacts to the touch.

“Do you want to keep this flat?” Phil asks. “Because if you do-”

“Like I said,” Dan grins. “Worth it.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I don’t care.” Dan wraps his fingers around Phil’s cock and nips his teeth against the skin on Phil’s jaw. “The ‘who’, not the ‘where’, remember?”

Phil bucks his hips as a crackle of pleasure bursts through him when Dan thumbs at the head of his cock. Dan hums against his skin.

“Whatever you say,” Phil agrees, uselessly.

“Good,” Dan murmurs.

Phil gets on top of him and they stop talking. As the candle lights flicker and Dan makes a soft noise, Phil thinks that right now, he isn't just ‘not unhappy’. He’s happy. He doesn’t have to think farther than that.

-

Phil doesn’t completely avoid the record shop anymore, but he stays away as much as he can. He doesn’t need to be afraid of seeing Dan here anymore, but Dan was never the biggest reason for his avoidance.

Today, Tom is working the cash when Phil walks inside. Tom is helping a customer, so Phil sees his chance and hides by a cabinet on the other side of the shop. He tells himself it’s not pathetic. He should have no obligation to be polite with him. No one would expect Martyn to go up to an ex girlfriend and act like nothing happened between them. Even if no one knows about Tom and Phil, the same rules should apply to them. Phil sighs, rolling the hem of his shirt between his fingers. It’s not actually his shirt. If Tom saw him, he’d be able to tell it’s Dan’s right away.

Phil is here for Dan. No one else. Still, this shop seems full of tormented ghouls, each one more demanding and hurtful than the next. 

Just then, Martyn exits the backroom as if called upon to remind Phil that Tom’s not the only person he should worry about. Phil shrinks in on himself. He can’t get away with avoiding Martyn. It’s not like Martyn has done anything wrong, apart from putting an unnecessary amount of pressure on Phil to see their parents whenever he does. But it’s not as much about what Martyn says and does as it is about who he is, as a person. Just like Phil can’t help everything that’s _wrong_ about him, Martyn can’t help everything that’s _right_ about him. Phil just wishes the differences weren’t quite as stark. It all just reflects back on Phil’s shortcomings to become even more pronounced.

There’s no time to waste, and Phil just wants this over with. He marches over to Martyn before he can change his mind, feeling Tom’s kind eyes burn into him from behind the cash.

“Hi,” Phil says.

His voice is forceful, almost angry. Martyn looks up from where he’d been sorting through a stack of records and raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Phil?” he says, putting on an exaggerated voice. “Is it really you?”

Phil rolls his eyes. Martyn snickers, flashing an evil grin back at Tom. Tom is too far away to hear them, but apparently just his near proximity is reason enough for Martyn to regress to a fourteen year old that wants to show off in front of his mates. It’s good, though. It’s comfortable. It feels normal, like what things are supposed to be like.

“I’m just waiting-” Phil begins, then stops.

Martyn doesn’t know that him and Dan are friends. He wouldn’t have a clue. Phil doesn’t hang out at the record shop and outside of that, he only sees Martyn at Mum and Dad’s house. That’s not exactly the context in which Phil brings up things he doesn’t want further questions on.

“-for Dan,” Phil finishes, despite himself. It’s not like he can lie about it. When Dan comes out, everyone will see them leave together.

“Dan,” Martyn repeats. He says it quietly. “Sure.”

Phil squirms. Martyn looks back at him, eyes sharp like daggers, piercing through Phil’s carefully constructed barriers. Martyn may be clueless most of the time, not having noticed what went on between Phil and Tom for all those years, but right now Phil feels absolutely put on display.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why he came in late today, would you?” Martyn asks.

Phil frowns. He immediately shakes his head in response. Martyn doesn’t need to know that Dan was held up because Phil insisted on giving him a proper blow job before he went to work. He doesn’t need to know they woke up in each other’s arms. He can’t know. Ever.

“You’re mates then, right?” Martyn says. “Can you tell him to shape up a bit?”

“What do you mean?” Phil asks. His heart starts beating hard, fast. It’s almost scary just how forceful it is.

It feels as though the longer he and Martyn talk about Dan, the less Phil will be able to hide what’s going on between them. Phil still feels giddy just thinking about Dan, but it’s not hard to keep up an indifferent tone in front of Martyn. Phil’s so scared he couldn’t sound happy right now if he tried.

“He’s a good kid,” Martyn shrugs, glancing back at Phil, pulling a record out and looking at it carefully. “I know he tries his best. I just don’t know if he’s taking the job seriously.”

“I’m sure he takes it as serious as he needs to,” Phil blurts out, quick and pointed. The deep fear inside turns into anger like the flick of a switch. “It’s just a record shop job. It’s not like there’s much to take seriously.”

Martyn opens his mouth, closes it. Phil hates this. He’d rather Martyn just said whatever stupid thing is on his mind, any childish retaliation that would take the weight out of Phil’s uncharacteristic outburst. Still, Phil can’t imagine Dan slacking at work seeing as he’s so organised and responsible in other parts of his life. But Phil can’t very well tell Martyn about that.

“Okay, Phil,” Martyn ends up chuckling. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I didn’t-,” Phil stutters. “I just-you know what I mean.”

“If it’s such an easy job he shouldn’t mess up like he does then, right?” Martyn shoots back.

Phil bites the inside of his cheek. The uncomfortable thing about this is, surprisingly, not that Phil’s standing up for Dan. It’s that he can’t seem to stop himself from doing it. He thinks about backing down and moving on to a different subject, but he doesn’t want to. Instead, he wants to shoot down every little negative word said about Dan. Phil is well aware that it seems odd, and yet, he can’t stop. It’s that forceful.

“Well, you’re his boss,” Phil says, between gritted teeth, biting back everything else he could say. “I don’t want to do your dirty work.”

“Come on,” Martyn says, and his tone shifts to something pleading. “I don’t want to be too hard on the guy. I like him. I don’t want him to see me as some angry dictator.”

Phil’s not sure if this sincerity is worse than the anger. His stomach flutters, knowing Martyn likes Dan. It doesn’t even matter if he does, does it? Dan and Martyn can never share a space in his life. It doesn’t work like that.

Still, Phil relents. He nods. That fire goes down in size. Phil is finally able to look through the flames.

The only thing he can see is an awkward situation. That Dan is currently about to walk in on. Phil stares at him, where he’s stopped by the cash to say something to Tom. He looks so good. His neck is so long. But seeing him next to Tom, all Phil feels is ill. The residue hurt and discomfort surrounding Tom nearly bleeds onto Dan, feeding all the fears Phil still has surrounding his place in his life.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Phil says to Martyn. “I won’t promise anything, though.”

“Okay,” Martyn says. His eyes flit down to Phil’s t-shirt. Phil feels tense, waiting for Dan to be done talking to Tom. “Is that Dan’s t-shirt?”

Phil stares at him. “No.”

It’s a stupid thing to lie about. It incriminates him more than anything. Martyn knows Phil wouldn’t buy an oversized The Smiths t-shirt, but everyone knows that Dan would. Phil catches the confusion in Martyn’s eyes just as Dan looks over at Phil with a smile on his face. Phil is helpless against that. He smiles back just as wide, just as genuine, even though he can feel both Tom and Martyn looking at them.

“Bring it up with him, will you?” Martyn whispers to Phil right as he’s about to take a step forward and join Dan on his way out of the shop. “Yeah?”

Phil hates this. But he nods. Tightly. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t dare look Dan in the eye. He stares down at the floor as they make their way outside, and once they’re a bit away from the shop, Dan puts his hand on Phil's shoulder. Phil flinches, jumps back, stares into Dan’s eyes with a new burst of flames to blind himself.

Once the fire goes down, Phil notices Dan’s apprehension; questions painted all over his face. Phil takes a breath.

“Sorry,” he says, feeling his mouth go tight. “I’m-I just-”

“Don’t,” Dan says. They begin walking again. “I get it.”

Phil tenses. He hates that. He hates how clipped Dan’s tone is all of a sudden. He hates that he can’t seem to put things into order between all the confusing relationships in his life. Why do they all have to work at the same place, anyway? It seems like a cruel trick that’s being played on him.

He attempts a smile at Dan. Dan smiles back. Phil feels it in his bones, just how scared he is to lose him.

“I just can’t wait to kiss you,” Dan whispers.

He throws him a bashful smile. All of the worries die down inside Phil’s stomach, replaced by the promise of getting to touch Dan behind closed doors, unafraid of onlookers. Nothing can touch them when it’s just the two of them in Dan’s bed.

“Me too,” Phil whispers back.

Dan links their pinkies for a second before pulling his hand away. Phil tries his hardest to push away the fear of being caught.

-

The fifth night spent at Dan’s flat, Phil wakes up alone.

A cool breeze hits him and he pulls the duvet up over his bare shoulders. The room is covered in darkness except for the small, light blue slim line of light coming in through the opening of the blinds. As Phil’s eyes adjust to the darkness he notices a shadowy figure sitting on the armchair by the window.

Phil reaches for his glasses. Dan makes a small movement, but he remains in his position. Dan is pensively looking out at the street below the building, chin resting on top of his knuckles, only wearing a t-shirt and pants. Phil is sleepy. He wants that warm body against his own. He wants to share the duvet and ask why Dan is up, away from him.

He’s not sure if he wants to find out the answer. For as much as Phil has learned about Dan in the past few days, he’s not so familiar that he’ll be able to ask a question that Dan might not feel comfortable answering. Still, Phil keeps his glasses on, watching him. He remembers the promise he made to Martyn. He pushes it away.

“Phil?” Dan whispers.

Phil closes his eyes. He’s not sure why.

“Are you awake?”

Again, no words come out. There’s a feeling in the room like this isn’t real life. This is an hour of the night that no one’s supposed to be conscious for. It’s like cheating, getting to see what the night time really looks like. Phil feels like he’s doing something wrong, catching Dan sitting on the other side of the room, voice ending on a quiver when he speaks.

Phil doesn’t need to respond. Soon enough, Dan returns. The bed dips and Phil pushes the duvet up. Dan rolls into the warmth with a sigh. He puts his head on Phil’s extended arm.

“You are awake,” Dan whispers.

“Hmm,” Phil murmurs, cracking one eye open. “No, I’m not.”

Dan laughs gently. His fingers fit around the side of Phil’s glasses.

“You’re wearing these, silly,” he reminds him.

Phil smiles, opening his eyes fully. Dan’s got a look on his face that reminds Phil of moments they had before they gave in to everything. Moments in which Dan put an enormous amount of admiration and vulnerability right on Phil’s lap. Phil doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve it. Given how lost Phil is in all other aspects of his life, he probably shouldn’t be trusted with it.

Dan’s eyes are so full and the room is so blue and this looks like a dream, something Phil never thought he could have. He’s not sure he wants to allow himself to think that he ‘has’ it now.

Dan pulls the glasses off Phil’s face. He does so with steady, soft hands. After he’s put them away on the nightstand, he leans in and brushes his lips over Phil’s. They’re dry but plush and soft. Phil snakes a hand around the side of Dan’s neck. He combs his fingers through the hair on the back of his head. He pushes, giving himself way to deepen the kiss. Dan opens his mouth. Phil sighs a warm breath.

They part with a soft smacking noise. Dan’s eyes are still full, searching. His head is brimming with thoughts. Phil just can’t figure out what those thoughts might be.

“Close your eyes,” Phil whispers.

He rubs his thumb over Dan’s jawline. Dan blinks.

“Why?”

Phil leans back in. A softer, warmer kiss.

“You need to sleep,” he says.

“Hm.”

Dan’s eyes close. Then he smiles. The corners of his eyes crinkle. Phil’s heart starts to rush.

“Relax your face,” Phil giggles.

Dan opens his eyes and Phil scrunches his nose in disapproval. The look of admiration in Dan’s eyes turns into a laugh and then it deepens. It’s unfamiliar territory that Phil doesn’t get to see for long enough before Dan nuzzles his nose into the crook of Phil’s neck. He wraps an arm around Phil’s waist and holds him tightly for a moment. Phil pets his hair, kisses his temple.

“Good night, Dan,” Phil says.

There’s a sigh of… defeat, Phil thinks for a moment. He’s not sure that’s what it is, but that’s what it feels like.

“Good night, Phil,” Dan says.

Dan turns around and Phil holds him, feels his body relax against his own. There’s such depth between them, and at the same time, there’s some parts where they keep at the surface. Phil wants touch and closeness to be enough. He’s not sure they are.

The blue light covers the room and eventually the coolness of it fades as Dan’s warmth takes over. Phil falls asleep, clinging to the boy in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** I Won't Share You by The Smiths


	15. Chapter 15

Anja has surprisingly little to say whenever Phil comes back home.

He never stays long. He spends the odd night in his own bed, but most of the time he’s at Dan’s. It’s a strange thing, how free he feels within the confines of the four walls of Dan’s flat. It doesn’t really matter whether or not anyone else knows. What they share has nothing to do with anyone else. It feels like relief. After being stuck in his own head without anyone to break him out of it, getting to act on his true feelings is a high Phil won’t soon come down from.

That might be why Phil feels comfortable not being as tightly wound around Anja anymore. She knows he spends most of his time with Dan. She knows what that means. Besides, most of the time Phil comes home Vicky’s around, and he knows what that means, too.

Phil is in the process of packing a new set of clean clothes to bring to Dan’s when Anja enters his bedroom. She smiles as she sits down on the desk chair to watch Phil grab t-shirts from the wardrobe.

“Alright?” Phil asks. He makes sure to fold this t-shirt neatly. The distance between his and Dan’s flat isn’t very far. He normally can’t really be bothered folding his clothes. But Anja doesn’t need to know that.

“Why are you always at Dan’s?”

Phil stops. He doesn’t look at her, but his muscles freeze as if Anja isn’t Anja but someone to answer to. 

“I mean,” she says, “it’d be fun if you guys hung out here sometimes. Vicky and I are gonna be here tonight. We could make it an evening, the four of us.”

Two robins fly down to sit on the edge of the empty flower box on the other side of Phil’s window. Well, empty apart from the leavings of mid-September rain it contains. Phil takes a breath before he looks back at Anja’s face. If everything were normal, he’d tell her why him and Dan don’t spend a lot of time at Phil’s flat. It’s quite simple, actually. Dan’s got a bigger bed, and the two of them like to spend a lot of time in bed together.

Still, that feels weird to admit to Anja. So he says the first thing he can think of that’s got nothing to do with that.

“Dan could cook.”

Anja surprises Phil by not saying anything. She smiles, as if she’s got the words on the tip of her tongue, but something about this becomes delicate. Like they’re on the verge of something new, something exciting, but that they have to be careful not to scare off. The robins on the other side of Phil’s window are cleaning themselves using the rainwater in the flower box. Any sudden movement would make them scatter. Phil meets Anja’s quiet smile with a smile of his own.

“I’ll call him,” he decides. “I’m sure he’s fine with it. It’s a great idea, actually.”

Phil’s not sure where the bravery comes from but he goes with it. As scary as it is, if there’s anyone he would want Dan to know in his life it’s Anja. 

Anja grins. “Great. I’ll tell Vicky!”

She gets up. The robins fly away. Phil unpacks his bag as Anja leaves the room.

-

Phil isn’t sure how they ended up here. Dan is talking to the girls with ease and there’s three pots on the stovetop. The kitchen is full of sounds and smells and Phil is on the other side of it all, unable to say a word.

Dan throws him looks. Sometimes, the looks ask if he’s doing alright talking to the girls. Other times, the looks are reassuring, like he knows Phil is there and that if Dan could choose it’d only be him and Phil there. And then there are times when Dan looks almost exasperated, confused about Phil’s silence.

Phil can’t explain it. He is listening. He is noticing how well they all get on. It’s not like Phil is the silent, brooding type but Dan seems desperate to fill any moment of silence and Phil needs at least three seconds of no one speaking before he feels comfortable saying something without fear of interrupting anyone else. It’s a very different experience to being alone with Dan. The last time Dan was here, at the party, he didn’t seem to have eyes for anyone but Phil.

It’s not that Dan is putting it on, per se. Rather, another version of him seems to get unlocked with the girls. Phil loves this version just as much as he loves any other version of Dan, but he just can’t… breathe. He doesn’t want to think about it for too long, but deep inside Phil is panicking and he’s not sure why.

After dinner, Dan and Phil end up on the sofa while Vicky’s on the armchair with Anja sitting on a bean bag beside it. Vicky’s got a hand in Anja’s hair, playing idly with the strands, like it’s nothing. There’s music on in the background. The lighting inside is dim and the sun is setting outside the window. They’re drinking wine and the rapid pace of the conversation has slowed down to something more subdued, something a bit more manageable. 

Phil takes a sip of wine. Vicky’s on a rant about something going on at her work. All the while, she’s cupping Anja’s face as Anja looks up at her with big, loving eyes. Phil’s not sure if he should look. He’s not sure about much in this situation. The small distance between Phil and Dan on the sofa feels like a lie, but a see-through lie. Really, in here, Phil’s got nothing to be afraid of. It’s just that he’s been so trained to keep a straight face around other people. With Tom, there were no situations in which they were allowed as much as a lingering gaze.

But now, Dan’s hand is coming to rest on top of Phil’s thigh like it’s no big deal. Every hair on Phil’s body stands on edge. He’s tensing up and he’s pretty sure everyone can tell, especially Dan. He’s resolute about this touch, though. He’s drinking his wine and spreading his fingers over Phil’s thigh and scooting closer. Just as he does, Vicky grins down at Anja. Phil watches their eyes meet. Like always, it feels like intruding on an intimate moment. There’s a weight to their eye contact that makes Phil wonder whether his and Dan are just as transparent.

“You alright?” Dan whispers, lips close to Phil’s ear.

He feels warm and smells like wine. Phil takes a calming breath. He grabs Dan’s hand on top of his lap and holds it there. Their fingers link and neither Vicky or Anja bat an eye. They seem involved in their own conversation now. Phil turns his head and looks into Dan’s eyes and right now, there’s nothing exasperated to find in them. The fear that resides so deeply in Phil reveals itself. It’s not about the situation, per se. Phil realises he isn’t scared of what Vicky or Anja will think of them. Rather, Phil feels pressured to be reliable for Dan when in reality, he is unreliable. Phil is afraid to disappoint him. He’s afraid to be weak, and to have to lean onto Dan for support.

Phil nods. “Yeah,” he says as Dan squeezes his hand. “What about you?”

“I’m great.” Phil can tell that Dan means it by the smile that follows.

He looks as free as Phil wants to feel, being surrounded by people that accept him. Well and truly accept him. That’s exactly what Phil has been craving for so long, but right now he feels strangled. 

Dan can tell. That much is obvious. Phil wonders if Dan is going to ask him about it. Come to think of it, Dan never asked about his reaction at that party, when they were so close to finally kissing but Phil couldn’t. It’s been a relief, really, for Phil to not have to divulge. It’s just that Phil’s not sure he’ll ever share unprompted.

Dan ends up wrapping an arm around Phil’s shoulders. The music in the background is soft and soothing. Phil doesn’t know if he’s heard it before, but for right now it’s perfect. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek on top of Dan’s chest. Dan makes himself comfortable, moving to lie down on the sofa while running his fingers through Phil’s hair. Once Phil closes his eyes, the conversation between Dan and the girls fades farther and farther away until he can’t cling onto consciousness anymore, lulled to sleep by the feeling of Dan’s voice vibrating from his chest.

-

Phil isn’t sure how much time passes, but he keeps going in and out of consciousness for what feels like a good while. Dan’s hand remains in his hair. Sometimes, fingers trail up and down Phil’s arm. Dan’s speaking most of the time, but quietly, as not to wake Phil up. For a moment that makes Phil’s stomach go tight. In the strange space between dream and reality Phil becomes overwhelmed by the affection he feels for this boy. He could almost cry, just thinking about it.

“Phil?”

It’s Dan. Phil stirs, suddenly aware of the fact that he’s whining incoherently. He swallows, smacking his dry mouth, trying to figure out exactly where they are and why there are voices other than Dan’s around him.

He can hear Vicky giggle distantly. Phil looks up at Dan. Dan strokes his cheek and leans closer. Phil acts on pure instinct when he pushes himself forward to kiss him. It’s a short, chaste thing. Phil lies back to rest against Dan’s chest and closes his eyes. He hasn’t even looked at them, but right now Vicky and Anja’s presence burns. It threatens to wake him up fully, to face the feeling of it all, but Phil decides to lean into just how exhausted that makes him feel. It doesn’t take much more than that for him to fall asleep again.

-

“It’s not you. He doesn’t talk much at all, really.”

It sounds like Anja. There’s no music playing. Phil takes a deep breath, trying to settle back into sleep.

“Yeah, I mean, I figured.” It’s Dan. He sounds unsure. Phil wants to smother that uncertainty with affection and reassurance and kisses, but he’s trapped in sleep and not-sleep and the intrigue about what this conversation is.

“I think he’s had bad experiences, or something,” Anja says. “I don’t know. I’ve noticed he doesn’t seem to like saying things outright.”

She’s not holding back anything. Phil doesn’t remember the last time she sounded so open, so honest. He listens closer. Dan’s stroking his jawline with wispy movements as though he’s idly petting a cat. Phil leans into the touch until Dan fully cups his cheek. He hears Anja chuckle. 

“He does sometimes,” Dan says. His tone is warm. “I don’t really doubt that we feel the same way about each other.”

The strange air of everything disappears as Phil marches into consciousness. They’re talking about him. Openly. They’re talking about his and Dan’s relationship like it’s no big deal. Phil lets out even, long breaths. He wonders if Dan can tell he’s woken up. They’ve slept together so much lately that Phil thinks he’d be able to tell if Dan was faking sleeping by now.

“Oh, me neither,” Anja says quickly. “You can tell how in love he is with you from miles away.”

Phil’s heart beats hard. Dan’s breath hitches. Phil can feel it against his cheek. 

“I worry about him a bit.” Dan whispers it like it’s a secret.

It hurts. Phil wants all these loud words to stop. He wants to disappear into Dan’s touches and words of affection. He doesn’t want to know that Dan can tell how weak he is, even if he guessed he’d figure it out eventually. Of course he would. It’s obvious.

“He’s better now,” Anja insists. “Since you guys got together he’s been so much happier.”

It sounds like they’re talking about a different person. Phil can’t recognise himself as what they’re describing. He has struggled a lot, yes, but he never said so. For a moment he finds himself resenting them both for seeing through him, for knowing all the things that he’s so carefully kept inside his head in order for them to _not_ worry about him. Phil sighs. 

“Yeah,” Dan murmurs. “Me too.”

The hand on his cheek tightens. Dan pushes Phil’s face up a bit.

“Phil,” Dan whispers.

Phil opens his eyes. Dan’s cheeks are rosy and sweet. He’s probably a bit drunk.

“Bed?” Phil rasps.

“Yeah,” Dan smiles.

Phil kisses him. Dan kisses back. Phil wishes he could freeze time and just live inside of this. Inside of this quiet reassurance. He can’t, though. He won’t. Anja is watching them. Phil pulls away.

They detangle and Phil gets up on unsteady legs. He glances at Anja. Vicky is sleeping on her lap in the beanbag chair. Phil grins, and Anja grins back. It’s easy to put the conversation out of his mind, the one he wasn’t supposed to hear. He knows it won’t last. Phil is going to turn it over a million times in his head when his brain is awake enough for it, but not now. Now, Dan is leading him into the bathroom and they end up brushing their teeth next to each other while holding hands. Phil wees and then Dan wees and then they go back to Phil’s room.

The bed is small, but Phil wants nothing but to be as physically close to Dan as possible right now. He takes off his glasses and his jeans and his t-shirt and lies down on the bed while he waits for Dan to do the same. Dan grins and makes himself comfortable against Phil’s chest. It’s a single bed, and they’re both tall, but somehow it’s perfect.

“Comfy,” Dan comments.

Phil’s heart hurts. The rush of affection comes back. His grip around Dan’s chest goes tight as he kisses the side of his neck. He hitches his leg over Dan’s hip and clings. It’s some mix of fear and happiness seeping into the moment. Phil wonders if Dan can feel both, too. He wonders if he can feel the tide coming, if he’s afraid of getting lost in the waves.

“I love you,” Phil whispers.

Dan turns slightly. Phil moves so that Dan can look at his face. Dan’s eyes are wet. 

“I love you too,” he says in a choked voice.

There’s so much emotion in the room and it makes Phil feel just as choked up as Dan seems to be.

“Are you gonna cry?” Phil asks. He sounds frightened, even to himself.

Dan fully turns over so that they’re facing each other on one pillow each. He shakes his head and mouths a ‘no’, but as soon as he does his eyes well up even more until a few slow moving tears spill out onto his cheeks. Dan closes his eyes. Phil’s throat goes tight. Tears prickle in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m so lame,” Dan says, trying to laugh. “I’m not sad. I’m… really happy.”

He opens his eyes again. Phil tries to blink away the tears, feeling a fresh wave of fear settle inside his chest. He doesn’t want to lose this. He can’t lose it. He needs to hold on to Dan as hard as he can lest they slip away from each other’s hold.

“Me too,” Phil says. 

Dan smiles. There’s something so trusting in that smile. Like he’ll always believe what Phil says. All Phil can see is another bomb starting to tick, counting down the time it’ll take until Dan realises that Phil doesn’t know how to be honest. It’s that thought, more than anything else, that pushes Phil to start crying.

Dan makes a noise and then he’s kissing Phil. Phil kisses back just as eagerly. He wants to savour this. He just isn’t sure whether he’s crying for the same reasons as Dan is. He _is_ happy. Right now, Dan loves him and he loves Dan. But Phil is so afraid still. When he kisses Dan it’s not to celebrate that they’ve finally told each other the thing he never told Tom and Tom never told him. He’s kissing Dan for comfort, for reassurance, even if Dan being here should be enough to grant Phil that comfort. In a moment that should be happy, most of what Phil feels is disappointment in himself.

“I really like your friends too,” Dan whispers once they pull away from each other. “It’s been a really good night. Even if you weren’t awake for half of it.”

“I was tired,” Phil defends himself half heartedly.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Dan says. “I know it’s hard for you to like, let people in.”

Something twists inside of Phil’s chest.

“People,” Phil repeats. “Not you. Never you.”

In some ways, that’s true. And one day, it will be completely true. He will be able to open himself up for Dan because he wants to, desperately. Dan kisses him again. As long as they stay like this, Phil can keep himself from overthinking. The discomfort remains, but it's worth it. Dan is always worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** I Started Something I Couldn't Finish by The Smiths


	16. Chapter 16

There’s a hand running down Phil’s chest.

Phil opens his sleep-heavy eyes to the blurry sight of one of Dan’s big hands stroking down his stomach. The duvet has been pushed down to only cover Phil’s bottom half. Dan is close, he has to be given the small size of this bed. His forehead nudges Phil’s jaw. Phil covers Dan’s hand with his own, leading it further down.

Dan makes a small noise when Phil stops at the waistband. He stalls.

“What is it?” Phil whispers.

“The girls are in the other room,” Dan mumbles.

Phil thinks about the countless times Anja and Vicky’s had sex while Phil was trying to sleep next door and grins. He pushes Dan’s hand underneath his boxers. Dan strokes the base of his cock. Phil groans weakly, pulling his own hand away to let Dan do as he pleases.

“It’s fine,” Phil murmurs. “If you want to.”

Dan pushes Phil’s boxers down under his balls and takes Phil’s half hard cock in hand. Phil watches as Dan slaps it onto his stomach, lightly stroking him, feeling at the edge of his cockhead through the foreskin covering his tip.

“I want to make you come,” Dan says. Phil can tell he’s smiling the smug way he only does when they’re about to have sex.

Phil heaves out a breath, listening to Dan’s deep, sleepy voice, focusing on the feeling of his hand wrapping around his shaft. They shift, as Dan sits up and makes himself comfortable on his stomach between Phil’s legs, duvet discarded to the floor. 

Dan keeps stroking him, arms bent over Phil’s thighs, watching Phil’s cock grow harder. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly it happens once Phil’s got a full view of Dan’s face between his legs. Dan smiles, brushing a thumb between his balls. Phil gasps. Dan leans down and takes Phil’s cock in his mouth. It’s so wet. Dan hollows his cheeks and sucks hard as he sinks down, tongue poking against him as he goes.

Dan is fucking amazing at this. He’s only done it a handful of times but he’s a natural. He takes note of every little cue, every little change in Phil, and somehow knows how to turn that into something that feels incredible.

A loud slurping noise fills the room as Dan sinks further down and pulls back up to play with the cockhead. Phil slaps a hand over his own mouth to stop himself from making an even louder noise at the sensation. He can feel Dan swallow around him. He keeps stroking his balls with his thumbs, so gently, as he begins to bob his head up and down Phil’s dick in an easy, slick slide.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Phil manages to wheeze.

Dan pulls off and kisses up the side of his cock. His eyes are innocent and mischievous at the same time.

“What’s that?” he asks. His voice vibrates against Phil’s cock and Phil tenses, feeling everything suddenly accelerate.

“You,” Phil attempts to repeat himself, interrupted by the sharp breath he takes when Dan puts him back in his mouth. “ _Fuck_.”

Dan pulls off again to grin and say, “yes, I’d like that.” He wraps a hand around the base of Phil’s cock to wank him at the same time as he sucks. He’s going faster and faster, lips meeting his fist at every upstroke.

He’s not looking Phil in the eyes anymore. He’s so focused on what he’s doing, on getting Phil off, and Phil feels too weak to be able to hold back from coming.

“I’m close,” he says hoarsely, hips moving with Dan’s motions, sliding through his hand and into his mouth.

Dan pulls off with a satisfied hum. He crawls up Phil’s body and kisses him firmly on the mouth as he wanks him hard and fast and then Phil comes, sleepy whimpers swallowed by Dan’s dirty delicious kiss.

“Fuck,” Phil says once he’s pumped dry, delirious with the feeling. “That felt so good. You’re so good.”

Dan makes a pleased little noise that makes Phil’s dick twitch. His enthusiasm for sex is absolutely intoxicating. Phil wraps his arms around Dan’s neck and licks inside his mouth, turning them to lie on their sides. Dan’s little hips move slowly against Phil’s thigh, stiff cock poking at him as he goes. 

Phil grabs him through his underwear. Dan moans as his body jerks against the sudden friction. 

“Oh, God,” he whimpers.

Phil would make a better attempt at getting him to quiet down but in the moment he doesn’t care who hears this. Dan has an ability to completely lose himself into sex and it makes Phil feel like he might be able to do that, too. 

Dan grabs Phil’s other hand and leads it down, making him grab his ass. Phil squeezes, out of curiosity more than anything, but the way Dan keens as a result makes him want to do it more for completely different reasons.

“You can do anything you want with me,” Dan says, speaking quickly like he’ll lose confidence if he doesn’t get it out fast enough. “You can touch me anywhere you want to. I’ll like it.”

He gets back on top of Phil, straddles him. Dan spreads his leg way more than he needs to. Pushing against Phil’s hands, he rocks back and forth between them as if he can’t decide on what he wants the most. Phil slides his hand under the waistband of Dan’s boxers on the front and wraps his hand around his cock. His pulse quickens as he does the same on the backside, running hesitant fingers along the open cleft of his ass until he’s hovering over the spot he thinks Dan might want touched.

Dan fucks into Phil’s hand. With his face tucked against the crook of Phil’s neck, he nods urgently. He isn’t able to fully verbalise what it is he wants but Phil gets it and he’s fucking nervous about it but he _wants_. He wants to touch Dan there because Dan seems to get off on it so hard, wants it so bad.

Phil circles the rim of Dan’s asshole, faintly, and the first thing he takes from the new feeling is that Dan is so incredibly warm there. The second thing he takes from it is the way Dan goes completely still, breath caught in his throat. Dan comes from the twist of Phil’s wrist. He comes and he comes and he comes. He pushes into the tight circle of Phil’s hand like he’s desperate for it, just from that soft touch.

When it’s over, Dan lies down next to him and catches his breath. Phil’s hands are messy. He’s not sure what to do. He’s not sure how Dan feels, whether he’s embarrassed, whether he wants to be touched right now. 

Phil wipes his hands against his own boxers and chances a look at Dan’s face. Dan is already looking back at him. 

“You really liked that,” Phil blurts.

Dan barks a laugh, completely red-faced within seconds.

“Shut up,” he says, twisting, but he rolls into Phil’s arms when they open for him.

Phil hugs him close, brushes his lips against his temple. Dan releases a shuddering breath. Phil’s first impulse is to reassure Dan, immediately, but he’s not sure what Dan is feeling. All Phil knows is that if it was himself, he’d need that reassurance and comfort right now. He feels Dan’s breathing even out against his chest and kisses him behind the ear, not unlike what Dan did to him the day they first got together.

“You’re hard,” Dan comments.

He grabs Phil’s dick as if he needs to prove it. Phil bucks against his hand. Dan pulls back to look into his eyes. He smiles, giggles as he squeezes Phil’s cock and Phil laughs, shaking his head.

“You’re too hot,” he says, breath catching on the final word as Dan slides his hand in his pants.

“So you liked…” Dan begins.

“Yeah,” Phil interrupts him before he can finish the sentence. There’s something about hearing the actual words that terrifies him.

“Me too,” Dan says, his smile fading, eyes flitting down to Phil’s lips.

Phil feels an urge to make a joke out of it, but he fights it. He leans in, resting his forehead against Dan’s, and lets him play with his foreskin at the tip of his dick.

“Good,” Phil whispers.

Dan pulls back to look into Phil’s eyes again, as if to make sure that Phil’s being honest. Phil’s heart breaks a little bit, knowing that Dan wouldn’t just take his word for it.

“Kiss me,” Phil says.

Dan kisses him. Phil moves with his hand, grabs Dan’s hips, and stops himself from thinking too hard about what all of this could mean.

-

They have breakfast with the girls after a shower each. Phil is feeling a bit more confident about the four of them hanging out today. He finds himself laughing more and sitting closer to Dan on the couch without thinking too hard about it. It could just be because Dan just made him come twice and there’s no way that anxiety could make him tense up right now, but either way it feels nice. It feels right. 

Every so often, his eyes lock with Anja’s where she’s sat on the armchair and he knows for sure that the thing that separated them before is gone now. There’s no longer a need to keep up the false pretense of not knowing. Phil’s not sure if what he feels is relief. He’s not ready to talk about it. He doesn’t know if he ever will be. So it feels nice, but it doesn’t make him feel free.

Phil’s in the kitchen washing up when Anja comes up behind him. Dan and Vicky are still in the lounge chatting up a storm as usual. Anja leans against the counter and smiles.

“Martyn called earlier,” she says. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Phil says, feeling oddly put on the spot. “Alright.”

They look at each other for a moment. Phil doesn’t know why but he begins to blush.

“I’d have told you when he called but I suppose you were... busy,” Anja smirks with a shrug.

There it is. Phil’s embarrassed but he can’t help giggling. Thinking back on what he was busy with can’t make him feel bad, not when it’s just Anja that might have heard something.

“What’s that laugh!” Anja exclaims, slapping his arm.

Phil flinches to the side, still grinning. “Nothing,” he says, going a deeper shade of red. “I was busy, yeah. Thank you. I’ll make sure to phone him later.”

Anja finally cracks up, looking up at Phil with a strange kind of interest she hasn’t subjected him to before. Then again they’ve never talked about this stuff before. It might feel strange, or maybe just new.

“He’s a loud one, huh?” Anja teases.

“Bloody hell,” Phil groans.

Anja proper cackles at that. Phil threatens her with the wet sponge in his hand and she surrenders, stepping back and putting her hands up.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” she grins as she heads back to the lounge. “Don’t forget to ring Martyn though, yeah?”

Phil thinks ringing Martyn would put a damper on everything right now but it doesn’t matter. He still has to phone him. He nods.

“Yeah.”

He gets back to washing up with a slight fear creeping up his back.

-

When Phil was growing up, Martyn was his hero.

When he was sad, or scared, or anxious, he didn’t go to his parents. He went to his older brother, because his older brother always knew how to make everything better because that was just who he was. Martyn never seemed to fail at anything he tried to do. Whether it was sports or music or friendships or girls; he succeeded. He was one of the few people that managed to be popular without being a dick to the less popular kids. Phil got out of a lot of trouble just via his association with Martyn, that’s for sure.

Phil aspired to be like Martyn, plain and simple. Phil struggled to find something he was good at, while Martyn had to choose between all the things he was amazing at to focus on. Despite this, it took a long time for Phil to realise that he’d never be like Martyn, no matter how hard he tried. To realise that people like Phil shouldn’t have role models like Martyn, because living up to those standards is an utter impossibility for them.

At fourteen, it was already clear to Phil that Martyn was better in every conceivable way, but for the first time he didn’t exactly mind. He remembers being in his bedroom with Tom one day during summer break, some time after they finally started getting intimate with each other after a lot of longing, and being too happy about it to feel sad about anything else.

In hindsight, Phil can admit that he was in love. 

That day, Mum and Dad had been gone and Martyn was out swimming with some friends. Phil and Tom had the house to themselves for the very first time. It felt almost strange at first, to welcome Tom inside without having to wait for Tom to be polite to Phil’s parents or for him to spend some time being loud and rowdy with Martyn. Tom had rushed over as soon as Phil rang to tell him that they’d all gone but by the time they were alone in what suddenly felt like an enormous, vacant house all they could do was stand awkwardly in silence.

Tom was the one to break it. Like always, he charged forward without hesitation. Phil had been staring at the way his white t-shirt had fit his chest, getting lost in thought when Tom ended up leading him upstairs to Phil’s room and took off his t-shirt.

The fact that Tom did everything with such confidence definitely bled over to Phil. They shut and locked Phil’s bedroom door and closed the blinds to the window. In the almost completely dark room they’d taken off of their shirts and trousers and gotten into bed as quickly as they could. It was never a question, after the first time they’d gotten off together. If Tom was around and not hanging out with Martyn, they ended up tangled and moving together until they’d both come, kissing and touching and for once feeling safe, for once feeling accepted.

There was no ghost of Martyn inside this room, when it was just Phil and Tom. Martyn might be better at everything else, but in here Phil could do everything Martyn couldn’t. He could make Tom feel good, and not just in a sexual way. Phil and Tom’s connection was as much about attraction as it was about the fact that they were both boys that liked boys, and that they knew that about each other. It was a bond neither of them had had with anyone before, and that was why it became so strong, so intense, so meaningful in ways that other people’s first loves might not be. 

And still, they weren’t exactly equal in this scenario. At that age, two years felt like a massive difference and that was made clear by how much Tom took charge. He made everything okay. He held Phil when everything felt scary. He never seemed scared himself. He was always so strong, so sure, so comforting. In a way Phil’s focus began to switch from Martyn to Tom during that time, because Tom was someone whose shoes Phil had thought he would be better able to fill.

Instead, ugly thoughts came into fruition in Phil’s mind that he hasn’t properly been able to shake since. Rather than looking up to Martyn he became resentful of him and even worse, as Tom was friends with Martyn first Phil conjured a load of insecurities that he had never known before.

“You’re my favourite,” Tom had said one night when he’d sneaked into Phil’s room after Martyn went to sleep.

Phil was straddling Tom on his bed. They’d been together for a year and Phil was in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions the way that only a fifteen year old could be. Rather than responding, Phil had leaned in to kiss Tom and Tom had kissed back with as much passion as Phil needed to feel satisfied. It was like that, when Tom came over for Martyn rather than for Phil. Tom had to work overtime in order to give both of the Lester boys their dose of him, whatever version of him it was that they needed. 

“You know that, don’t you?” Tom pulled back too soon to ask.

“I don’t want to talk,” Phil whined in response.

“Well, I do,” Tom said. He sounded stern and Phil never knew how to talk back to that. “I want you. I’ll never want Martyn like I want you.”

“I don’t want to talk about Martyn,” Phil said even if he knew better.

“Then you shouldn’t have acted all grumpy and upset with me all day just because I had to hang out with him.”

It was embarrassing, just how selfish Phil would get when it came to Tom. He clung so hard it ended up hurting them both. 

“Kiss me,” Phil said.

“Phil,” Tom warned.

But Phil knew the loopholes. He knew how to get what he wanted. He knew how to redirect Tom’s thoughts from whatever he was upset about to only focus on their bodies and how perfect they felt together. Tom ultimately had the control, but Phil could get his way, too.

Even then, Phil had been well aware that he was doing it wrong. That he should try to be more mature and stop acting jealous about everything all the fucking time. It was just that he didn’t want to, plain and simple. Phil was angry and he wanted to be angry. It was easier to resent Martyn than to accept that he was everything Phil wasn’t, or to accept that that wasn’t either of their faults in the end. All Phil knew was that it was unfair, and he wanted to hold on to that feeling because he’d rather be angry than sad.

“I want to touch you,” Phil said, sliding a hand down between them.

Tom always looked so little like himself when they were like this. There was a fire in his eyes that was everything but the nice, kind, perfectly adjusted guy that he was turning into. That was something Phil could relate to, finally. There was nothing he loved more than seeing that reflected back at him through Tom’s piercing gaze right before he kissed him. 

This time, like so many others, they were interrupted. There was a knock on the door and Phil flew off Tom as if pulled away by another force. The door was locked but Martyn knew how to pick it. Phil didn’t trust him not to just burst inside.

Tom grabbed a pillow to cover his lap and Phil pulled his pyjamas back on in a haphazard manner before he opened the door for Martyn to come inside. He always made fun of them for starting the party without him. Phil would act irritable and moody all through playing board games because what he really wanted was for Martyn to leave so Tom could get him off.

Martyn became this symbol for everything Phil felt was unfair in his life. He kept Tom from him. He was the perfect son whose standards their parents would always hold Phil to. And worst of all, he never resented Phil the way Phil resented him.

He was a big brother, always up for teasing, but when it counted he had Phil’s back. All Phil had wanted was to hate him. He wanted to be angry at him and not think about all the reasons why he felt that way. It was impossible to do when Martyn was so unconditional in his love for him, and always wanted to include Phil, and kept him close in his life even when he absolutely didn’t have to. Phil couldn’t hate a person like that, deep down. 

Even when it came to the true nature of their hearts, Martyn managed to win.

In reality, Phil and Martyn get along. They’ve always had that connection, this sibling feeling of comradery, and Phil keeps fighting it because he’s scared of finding out how much Martyn can know about him before his love for him inevitably becomes conditional.

Phil has gone his whole life sticking to Martyn’s agenda instead of doing his own thing, so after a few months of not doing that it’s difficult even to pick up the telephone to ring him back. It’s been nice to not have the representation of everything Phil can’t be in his face all the time. But he has to face him, at least sometimes. Expectedly, this time it’s to be guilted into going with him to Mum and Dad’s to help them fix something in the garden. A bird feeder, or something.

“I can’t fix things,” Phil argues. “I only break them.”

“You’re only saying that to get out of it,” Martyn chuckles, and Phil swears he can hear him roll his eyes like he does. “You don’t even have to help, though, if you don’t want to.”

That almost stings more. Because of course Phil isn’t actually needed.

“Sure, yeah,” Phil says, swallowing the familiar anger boiling in his stomach. “I guess I’ll just keep Mum company, right?”

“Yeah,” Martyn grins. He sounds satisfied but not in a smug way. This is literally Martyn’s ideal image; him and Dad working on something together while Phil and Mum stand by to watch. “Hey, did you talk to Dan?”

“What?”

“Dan,” Martyn says slowly. “The guy you pick up at the shop pretty much every day?”

“I don’t-”

“That guy. Did you talk to him about slacking?”

Phil looks over at Dan on the sofa. He’s reading the back of Phil's Smiths record. The girls are gone. Dan is shirtless, beautiful as the setting sun paints him in gold.

“I’ll get to it,” Phil says distractedly.

“Okay, well,” Martyn says. “Thanks. See you Thursday? Or are you coming in tomorrow as well?”

The anger fades when Dan meets Phil’s eye. He can’t even lie when those gorgeous brown eyes are on him, promising the world and more once this phone call is over. Phil hardly even picks up on the slightly teasing tone of Martyn’s voice. 

“Yeah,” Phil says, staring back at Dan. “See you tomorrow.”

Martyn is about to say something else when Phil hangs up the phone. He makes his way over to the sofa, straddles Dan’s lap, wraps his arms around his neck. He’s warm and comforting and he doesn’t ask for anything Phil can’t give. Dan grabs his hips and allows himself to be kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** I Keep Mine Hidden by The Smiths
> 
> Hi 🐦💙! Here's a little note of appreciation for you readers. Thank you for coming along for the wip ride and for your encouragements. It means so much to me ❤
> 
> I also wanted to direct your attention towards [this moodboard](https://hyggephan.tumblr.com/post/617558820424761344/a-moodboard-for-intoapuddle-s-fic-times-tide) that tumblr user hyggephan made this week! Thank you so much for making it, you did a wonderful job capturing the feeling of the story ;v; <3


	17. Chapter 17

They’re at Dan’s flat, the evening before Phil’s dinner with Martyn and his parents. It’s been a while and he wants to enjoy being with Dan, but it’s been difficult. 

He’s able to stop worrying for small increments of time, when he’s cuddling Dan and listening to the songs that brought them together. Dan is running his fingers through Phil’s hair. It’s so long now, curling in the neck, almost reaching his shoulders. Dan never seems to mind it. Despite the care he puts into his own looks, especially his hair, he never has anything but good things to say about Phil’s unruly appearance. 

It’s a peculiar thing, being so easily entertained by simply looking someone in the eyes on top of a bed on a Wednesday evening. Phil was never afforded the luxury of such simplicity, such slowness, with Tom. He wonders if they would’ve done this, had they not had to fear being caught at every other turn. 

Some of Dan’s freckles are fading. There’s been a lot of cloudy days and rain as of late. Still, there’s enough of them left for Phil to be able to reach out and create invisible lines to connect them, just moving his finger across Dan’s cheek. Dan always ruins it by smiling, obscuring their placements. _This Charming Man_ is playing in the background when Phil leans in to kiss the apple of Dan’s cheek. He feels eyelashes brush against his nose. 

“I’m going back home for a bit next week,” Dan says when Phil pulls away.

“Really?” Phil asks. They haven’t spoken much about Dan’s family. All Phil knows is that they have a complicated enough relationship that Dan avoids the topic, and that's why he won’t leave Manchester.

Dan nods, searching Phil’s eyes. “Nan’s birthday.”

Phil settles his hand on the dip of Dan’s waist. The few stories he has been told about Dan’s childhood included his grandmother to some capacity.

“How long are you going to be away?” Phil asks.

“Just a few days,” Dan says. He closes his eyes. Tension appears in his upper lip. “Hopefully less.”

When Dan opens his eyes again, Phil isn’t sure where to take this. Should he act indifferent about it? Should he ask more? Most of what he feels is a strange dread. The idea of being apart for more than a few hours or a night is suffocating.

“Are you going to be okay?” Phil decides to ask.

Dan sighs hard. “Probably not. I’ll probably be asked about Helen, and Manchester, and I won’t be able to say anything they want to hear.”

There’s no doubt that the ‘Helen’ Dan is referring to is his ex-girlfriend. Phil’s never heard her name before. It makes her feel more real, more tangible than just a part of Dan’s past that Phil wants to pretend didn’t happen. 

“What will they want to hear?” Phil asks.

“That I’m working on that relationship,” Dan says. “That I’m done with Manchester and all the crap that made their lives harder.”

Dan pauses for a second.

“That I’m sorry.”

He closes his eyes again and the tension spreads all over his face. Phil holds him by the back of the head, pulling him in against his chest while his arm goes around his back to hold him tightly. Dan’s arms are around Phil’s waist, limp but there.

“Are you sorry?” Phil whispers.

He doesn’t know what that’s about, at all, but it feels right to ask.

“No,” Dan says into Phil’s shirt. “They’re the ones that should say sorry.”

He looks up at Phil as they turn so Dan can lay on top of him.

“They’ve always seemed so scared for me,” Dan sighs. “Even when I was with Helen, they had this idea like they had to really push that so I didn’t-so that I’d settle down early, you know? It’s fucking weird to be sixteen and talking to your mum about marriage.”

Phil huffs out an almost amused breath in response.

“I feel like they always just knew,” Dan says. “You get what I mean?”

Phil holds back from visibly squirming.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sort of.”

He thinks about the look in Mum’s eyes, that clear disappointment in her tone whenever the topic of women and marriage is brought up. He thinks about the way his parents looked at him and Anja when they danced at Tom’s wedding. Part of Phil thinks that they must know. Another part wonders how they ever could, and why.

Dan’s face is full of questions that Phil doesn’t want to answer. Phil isn’t sure what exactly it is that he’s protecting. Whether it’s control, or denial, or pride. As if he’s still grasping at straws, trying to be more like Martyn. Phil couldn’t hide his emotions growing up. They were always on his sleeve, and they were always so big. Being forced to hold them back in for so long makes it feel impossible to bring any of them back out.

Dan isn’t like that. He still has this coolness about him, but he’s open. It was what attracted Phil to him in the first place. Had Dan been closed up, Phil never would’ve known that there was more behind the mask. 

“You’re thinking,” Dan murmurs, tugging at a strand of hair that’s fallen over Phil’s eye.

“Why didn’t it work with Helen?” Phil asks.

Dan looks away for a second. That’s long enough to terrify Phil.

“We grew up to be different people,” Dan shrugs. “We were only fifteen when we first got together. I was starting to have feelings for other guys.”

Phil is never going to understand this. “But you liked her,” he says.

“It doesn’t matter to me, Phil,” Dan says, and there’s something not so gentle about his tone now. Phil begins to feel trapped beneath him. This impatience is familiar, but not from Dan. “Gender isn’t… it matters in some ways, but not as much as other things do. I can’t control who I like. I’d rather not have to explain that to you of all people.”

 _’Why not?’_ is on the tip of Phil’s tongue, but he bites it back. It hurts to hear this. It feels like history repeating itself. It digs deep inside of Phil’s heart and brings forth a piece of himself he would like to discard. It’s the part of him that still aches, so badly. It’s the part of him that knows he can’t ever be enough for one person. There’s too much wrong with him.

Phil moves, sits up, and turns away from Dan.

“Is it really so strange?” Dan asks. “What’s this about, anyway? Are you jealous?”

“Stop it!” Phil snaps.

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Phil looks back at Dan sitting cross legged on the bed and there’s hurt in his eyes. Fuck. Phil’s breathing starts to go quicker. His vision blurs. He can’t lose Dan. Should that not be more important than this other discomfort whenever girls are brought up?

“I’m sorry,” Phil says, breathing shallow breaths.

“Sod off.”

Dan stands up. He looks out the window, back tense.

“I can’t fucking talk about anything with you,” Dan says. “I just want to tell you things. I want to know you. You make it feel impossible sometimes.”

Dan turns back around to look at him. Phil feels entirely devoid of emotion. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Dan says. “Or do you just want me to shut up and pretend like everything’s fine?”

The emotions come crashing down on Phil then. They turn into the righteous anger he’s familiar with. It makes him want to stand up and face Dan and tell him that he has no right to react this way. To push Phil, when all he wants is to understand. To accuse him of not trying. But the anger doesn’t overpower just how scared Phil is to be alone. It has nothing on what he truly feels for Dan. He can’t go back to who he was before they met. He can’t, won’t, say anything that might risk that, no matter how upset he feels.

“I’m not asking you to explain everything,” Phil says in a tone that’s so much calmer than he feels. “I was just asking about her.”

They look into each other’s eyes. At first, Dan looks resolute about his position. He wants to be angry too, for some reason. Phil knows that feeling well, but Dan doesn’t hold on to it. His eyes fill with some type of devastation. His lips tremble, searching for words, only to come up short. Then he starts to cry. 

Phil wraps his arms around him. For a moment he wonders what that’s like. What it’s like to let go of the anger and allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of another person. They stand quietly while Dan’s frantic breathing evens out against Phil’s chest. It’s not about Phil, this. Dan is the one that’s pushing and pulling.

“I’m just so tired of it,” Dan gets out. “I feel like I have to keep explaining myself all the time. It’s all I’ll do at Nan’s birthday. It drives me mad.”

“It’s okay,” Phil says. Part of him is relieved to deflect from his own issues. Another part of him is screaming, begging to be let out.

“I don’t want to go home,” Dan rambles. “I don’t want to see them. I don’t want to be asked about the friends I’ve made in Manchester and have to lie about you.”

“You don’t have to lie about me,” Phil says.

Dan looks at him with confusion. 

“You can tell them you’ve been spending a lot of time with me,” Phil says. “You can tell them that I’m your friend. That’s not a lie.”

“You’re my best friend,” Dan says, emphasising it so clearly.

“You’re mine,” Phil says, looking intently into his eyes. “In every way. The details of that are none of their business. You don’t need to lie about the rest.”

Dan is calming down. Phil can tell. The broken thing that appeared is closing up and they’re one again, on the same side. Phil can’t help but think that it’s all of Dan and half of himself, taking up that space. 

“I’m sorry I attacked you like that,” Dan says.

Phil is still in the position he wanted all this time. He’s in control. None of what Dan said is untrue, and Phil is well aware that he’s twisting it to reflect back on Dan rather than on himself, his own shortcomings. He can’t take the blame for it right now, but he feels fucking ill being apologised to.

“Kiss me,” Phil says.

“Phil,” Dan says, voice wavering.

Phil moves Dan to the bed. He straddles his lap, moves a hand between them.

“I want to touch you,” Phil whispers.

Dan accepts the messy kiss. The conversation and the emotions tied to it float away as their breathing grows heavier. 

-

The sky is grey with clouds, but Dad insists they work in the garden. Phil feels rigid in his movements, watching Martyn and Dad take the small birdhouse off the tree. A generous amount of seeds spill out in the process. Dad groans the way only he can, in a way that makes you feel like you did something wrong when really, he was the one that made the mistake.

“Phil, can you go get the broom?” Martyn asks Phil.

Phil turns around without a word. He’s glad to be assigned a task, even if all it feels like is some strange powerplay. All Martyn means to do is keep the peace. He’s like Mum in that way. Both of them know how to find immediate solutions whenever Dad gets grumpy. That must be why Dad seems to prefer them both. Phil is too afraid to ever make a suggestion.

It’s not a bad afternoon by any means. Phil helps out in the ways that he’s trusted to, Dad is in a good mood, and Mum comes over from time to time while making dinner to check how things are going. A lot of the time, all she ends up doing is muttering about Phil’s hair while stroking his cheek.

Everything is okay. Phil woke up in Dan’s arms this morning. They kissed and cuddled before Phil went to work. Dan lingered even more than usual today, wishing Phil good luck with the family dinner. He said it like he knew, instinctively, that Phil wasn’t looking forward to it. When it’s like that, Phil can accept the comfort. He doesn’t have to explain, he doesn’t have to pretend. He just gets to be comforted. Phil thinks about the feeling of that kiss and it makes everything better, knowing he’ll get to be back in Dan’s arms after this.

Phil gets through the first half of dinner pretty well. Martyn and Dad always get on the best when they’re trying to get Phil to join in their weird banter. They have this way of taking the piss all the time that makes it impossible for Phil to do more than fake laughter in response. Most it does is remind him that he’s not like them.

It’s easy to feel resentful of Martyn in these situations. Nothing about them asks Phil to explore the depths of that emotion. Martyn and Dad make fun and Phil zones out and Mum gives him apologetic looks. It’s all okay. It’s all fine.

“And how are you getting on then, Phil?” Dad asks. “We hardly see you anymore.”

Phil stiffens.

“Maybe a girlfriend?” Mum’s excited smile completely betrays the attempt at sounding casual about it.

This is all normal. It’s nothing Phil hasn’t deflected before. He does his usual thing of shaking his head and looking bashful. He’s sure the conversation is going to move on, until Martyn speaks up.

“No, Phil’s been busy hanging out with Dan all the time.”

Phil’s heart freezes. He’s almost disgusted, having Dan’s name brought up in this context. Like it’s not meant to be said in this space. 

“Dan?” Mum asks, her smile fading. “The new employee?”

“I thought you were going to fire him,” Dad says.

Phil stuffs his mouth full of pasta as an excuse not to say anything. Martyn glances over at Phil.

“No,” he says slowly, still looking at Phil. “He’s cool. He’s just being a kid.”

“How old is he, anyway?” Mum asks.

She’s looking at Phil. She’s asking Phil. About Dan. 

“He’s nineteen now, right, Phil?” Martyn says.

Phil swallows the food down and clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, I think so.”

“So you two hang out?” Dad asks. “Just the two of you?”

Phil can’t deflect direct questions. Everyone is silent, waiting for him to respond. He has to take control of this before it slips out of his hands and becomes something different.

“We like the same music and stuff,” Phil shrugs, sticking a sausage onto his fork. “And it’s not _all_ the time. Mar’s exaggerating.”

He gives Martyn a pointed look. Martyn looks right back.

“Whenever he’s not at Canal Street?”

A dangerous silence falls over the dinner table. Phil’s heart is on fire. The need to protect Dan is sounding every alarm, and it won’t back down even in this scenario.

“Real funny, Mar.” Phil’s voice is clipped, cold. “He doesn’t go there.”

There’s nothing flamboyant about Dan. Nothing that could give anyone a clue.

“Don’t joke about that, son,” Dad says.

Phil isn’t sure whether he’s grateful that Dad is on his side for once. Not about this.

“Relax!” Martyn says. He laughs awkwardly. “I wouldn’t be surprised, though.”

Phil catches the look Dad gives Martyn, then. It’s a look that says _’and you let Phil hang out with him?’_. So much for having Dad on his side. 

“What d’you mean ‘Canal Street’?” Mum pipes up.

She’s been silent during all of this up until now. Phil doesn’t want to think about why.

“Gay village,” Martyn says. “That’s where they all hang out, I heard.”

Phil knows that the moment this is all over, he’s going to feel it all. He’s going to be sick and he’s going to feel desperate. Right now, all of those feelings die inside his stomach. He can hardly process the turn of the conversation, or the words that just fell from Martyn’s lips. Phil’s never heard any of his family members use that word before. His family likes to pretend like people like that don’t exist.

“Well, that’s impossible,” Mum says, calm and clueless. “He’s only nineteen, isn’t he? It’s not legal.”

Phil frowns. “What isn’t?”

Mum looks back at him, waiting a beat before she responds.

“It’s illegal to do that before you’re twenty one.”

Phil knows about that law. It’s just as bullshit as all of the restrictions surrounding homosexuality that came before it. Nothing Phil has done with Dan should be illegal, in his eyes. But still, the reminder gets added to the pile of emotions that are going to kill Phil later.

“Maybe that’s why he’d go there,” Martyn muses with an amused grin. “You know, I bet you could make a lot of money blackmailing old rich-”

_“He doesn’t do that!”_

The exclamation seems to echo around the kitchen as it takes everyone aback. Phil’s throat hurts, pounds, for more reasons than just the volume of his voice.

“We’re only joking, Phil,” Martyn says. He grins, but it’s awkward, and Phil can feel Mum and Dad’s stare.

He doesn’t give a fuck. He can’t let this go on.

“He’s my mate,” Phil says loudly. “I happen to know that he’s a decent human being. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

His voice is dangerously close to wobbling now. The conversation has taken too many turns. Everyone knows that this means way more to Phil than it should. He just can’t stand to hear it any longer. He can’t let Martyn say all of these things about Dan like they’re funny.

“Would you calm down?” Martyn says, not as loudly as Phil, but he raises his voice. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Tom reacted the same way. It’s like no one can take a bloody joke anymore.”

Something breaks in Phil’s mind. It causes him to shut down. As it turns out, Phil’s not in control of this. He never will be. And he’s going to fucking scream-

“That’s quite enough from the two of you,” Mum snaps right as Phil’s about to make the mistake. “Be quiet and finish your dinner!”

The confidence dies in Phil’s throat and he shuts up. He stares blindly down at his plate as Dad says something, moving on to a different topic, but Phil can’t hear what he says. He can’t eat. He can’t speak. But no one asks him to.

Phil is on autopilot, trying with all of his might to think of a way to stop his parents from thinking about Dan like that. From thinking about _Phil_ like that. He doesn’t resist anything they say for the rest of the evening. He makes sure to be as obedient and good as they want him to be. He even lets Mum cut his hair, and he doesn’t care, because there are more important things at stake than a haircut.

It’s all building into anger. For every second that passes inside of this house, it gets bigger. It was an attack, plain and simple. Martyn knows something and they’ve reached the point, now. 

They’ve reached ‘conditional’.

-

“Never talk about him again.”

Phil’s trapped inside the car with Martyn. They’re just pulling out of Mum and Dad’s driveway but Phil can’t not say this. He can’t sit next to Martyn and pretend like everything’s okay.

“Who?” Martyn asks, glancing unsurely at Phil once he gets on the street.

“Don’t,” Phil bites back. “What the fuck did you think you were doing talking about him like that in front of them?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it?” Martyn says, raising his voice. “You said it wasn’t true. I’ll take your word for it, alright? You obviously know him better than I do.”

Phil closes his eyes. Despite everything, Martyn really doesn’t get it. He’s absolutely clueless. That, or he pretends to be. Phil takes a deep breath, aligning his thoughts.

“It matters to me,” he says.

“Why, though?” Martyn says. “If it isn’t true you wouldn’t-”

Phil gasps loudly enough for Martyn to finally shut up. They look at each other. The silence is deafening. Something is opening up in Martyn’s eyes, something that Phil thought for sure didn’t exist. It’s everything except for cluelessness. Phil won’t be able to wait until he gets home. He’s going to be sick, right now. Martyn looks like he can read every thought Phil has ever had.

“Stop the car,” Phil says.

“What?”

“Stop the bloody car!” Phil repeats, louder, frantically looking around for an escape.

He grabs the door handle, but it won’t budge. Martyn leans over and pulls his hand away in a desperate motion.

“Phil,” he says. He almost sounds scared. “What do you think you’re doing? What’s going on?”

Nothing Martyn says makes sense. He must know something. And if he does, he’s going to know everything, eventually. Phil won’t get to keep things separated; in love with a boy and loved by his family at the same time. Because if they find out about it, that love will change forever. Phil has let go of his hope to be normal, but he hasn’t let go of appearing to be. He’s not ready to do that. Not now, maybe not ever.

Phil looks out the car window. He crosses his arms over his chest. He won’t answer. Despite how harsh Martyn’s stare is, how heavy the silence is, there’s no use to say anything anymore. Phil won’t partake in the progression of it. He’ll shut up and see what happens.

Martyn doesn’t say anything else for the duration of the car ride.

-

Martyn stops outside Phil’s building. Phil unbuckles the seatbelt, readying himself to leave without a word when Martyn grabs his arm. He’s stronger than Phil, obviously. Phil doesn’t struggle. He remains seated and waits for Martyn to say whatever it is he feels the need to say.

“Phil-”

“Don’t,” Phil says. He’s breaking his own promise. He can’t not. He stares into Martyn’s eyes with a heat he can’t back down from. “Don’t talk to me about him. Don’t talk to Mum and Dad about him. I’m not joking.”

Martyn looks like he’s at a loss, completely. He lets go of Phil’s arm and gestures uselessly, helplessness written all over his body language.

“Phil,” he says again, sighing. “What-”

“No,” Phil says. “That’s enough.”

Martyn goes quiet. Finally, he’s backing down. In another context, this would feel like a victory. Like Phil finally got the upper hand between them. But Phil doesn’t think he’s won here. He feels like he’s lost everything.

He gets out of the car and slams the car door shut. Martyn doesn’t drive away. He looks at Phil through the car window like he’s full of regret, like he wants to apologise. Phil looks up at the building, then back at Martyn, only to march forward. He’s not going to his flat. He’s not going to talk it out with Martyn. He’s going home, to Dan, because he’s about to break into a million pieces. 

The engine of Martyn’s car starts and Phil looks back as he finally drives off. Phil’s knees wobble for every step he takes, trying to keep it together all the way to Dan’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore by The Smiths


	18. Chapter 18

Phil stops at the first floor of Dan’s building.

He closes his eyes and takes a hold of the stair railing, forcing himself to take three deep breaths. His legs are like jelly. His heart is racing. His whole body feels like he just ran a marathon. A desperate part of him wants to just rush up the stairs and throw himself into Dan’s arms. Another, even more desperate part of him can’t do that. 

He walks slowly, bracing himself every step of the way. Martyn is Dan’s boss. If Phil told him about what he said it would make things weird. Phil isn’t even sure what Martyn knows. He says he trusts Phil’s word when it comes to Dan, but then they had that moment. Phil thinks it would be impossible for Martyn to have suspicions about Dan, only for Phil to react like that, and not put two and two together. It’s all too much.

Phil can’t think clearly. There’s no way he can talk about this, especially not when he feels this way. He’s going to blame it on exhaustion. He’s going to tell Dan that Dad made him cut down a tree or something equally as physically draining. 

He thinks this until Dan opens the door for him and he steps inside.

“You cut your hair,” is the first thing Dan says, reaching out to touch it.

He’s smiling while he runs his fingers through the short strands, and then his entire face changes the moment he looks into Phil’s eyes. Phil’s never seen him like this before. So serious and worried. But then, Phil has never felt like this before either. He’s barely hanging on. Everything he was building up inside in order to face Dan is being wiped away again and he trembles.

“What’s wrong?” Dan asks.

Phil makes the tiniest noise, an exhalation of air, and he can’t anymore. He can’t fight. Not right now. It doesn’t even matter if he does. He’s fought so hard for so long to keep up appearances and then everything changed because of course he couldn’t actually do it.

Dan wraps his arms around Phil and holds him steady. Phil cries against his shoulder like he’s never cried before. He can’t stop. It’s all rolling through him and it feels like it’ll never end. He holds back as hard as he can but he still sounds pathetic, still feels weak. Everything just hurts. Physically and emotionally. Phil feels all these years of pain like they were just dropped on him tonight.

Dan leads him into bed. He doesn’t say anything. He’s so sure, so strong. He takes off Phil’s trousers and glasses and goes underneath the duvet with him. He lets Phil cry and combs his fingers through his hair softly. He makes no demands. He holds on, and he stays, and it makes Phil want to cry more to think about that.

“Phil,” Dan says eventually. Phil’s tears are drying. He’s spent a few moments solely focusing on his breathing, heavy and exhausted.

Dan sounds so careful. Phil takes a hold of one of his hands and brings it up between them. He kisses the knuckles softly. Dan spreads his hand over Phil’s cheek.

“What happened?”

It’s whispered. The words are gentle and they don’t feel crushing. Phil clears his throat, thinking about the tense argument they had last night. _’I want to know you’_ , is repeated in his mind.

“Nothing,” is Phil’s knee jerk response.

Laughter bubbles out of both of them as soon as the word comes out of his mouth. It feels so good to laugh. There’s nothing malicious in it.

“Fuck, Phil, I don’t know if I believe you,” Dan giggles.

His tone and his eyes exude sincerity. Phil shakes his head.

“Just... a weird thing at home,” he says. He is deflecting. It’s hard not to. “Some stuff about-I don’t know-someone said something that made me think they know I’m gay.”

Dan’s eyes turn intense. Phil knows it’s because he said the actual word. Right now, it doesn’t sit heavy on his tongue. After the way he shouted at the dinner table, there are a lot of words that feel easier to say right now.

“It was a stupid joke,” Phil says, chin trembling. “I definitely incriminated myself with my reaction. It was fucking terrifying.” The anxiety crushes him yet again. “I don’t want to think.”

He rolls out of Dan’s arms, pushing the heels of his palms against his eyes when they well up with tears. Dan’s hand lands on his shoulder, reminding him of where they are, who he’s with.

“You don’t have to think,” Dan whispers.

Phil wipes the tears away and looks at him. Dan smiles sadly.

“Good,” Phil says, voice tense with the urge to sob. “I never want to think again.”

Dan comes back closer and kisses Phil’s cheek. Then his forehead. Then his nose. Then his mouth. Phil grabs Dan by the sides of his face and keeps him there. He feels desperate for this. This feeling of closeness without words, without pain, without any other context but how much he loves and wants Dan. 

“I’ll think for the both of us for now,” Dan mumbles as they shift, legs tangling, arms around each other.

“Thank you,” Phil whimpers.

He wants to thank Dan for everything. For being here. For loving him. For opening his heart up.

“That’s what best friends are for, isn’t it?” Dan says, an attempt at levity that turns into fullness and truth all the same.

Phil nods. He leans in to kiss him on the mouth. Firmly. Dan opens it for him.

“I love you so much,” Phil whispers as Dan gets on top of him and pulls his shirt off.

Phil takes a hold of Dan’s hips and looks down at his chest and stomach. The puffy little nipples, the soft roll of skin. He grabs at the pudge around Dan’s hips. Arousal flares hot between them.

“I love you,” Dan says. “I want you.”

He grabs at Phil’s t-shirt, helps take it off him. Running his hands up Phil’s chest, Dan leans down and kisses his neck. They roll their hips together in a natural, practiced motion. Phil moans. It goes so fast, right now. Every bit of friction and every touch of skin to skin feels like a million times more than usual. Phil is desperate for it, but Dan goes slow. He pins Phil’s wrists on the mattress and takes care of him, makes him feel good.

They breathe and moan and move together. Dan thinks for Phil as though his thoughts are pure, delicate, so easy to handle in the palms of his big hands. Phil cries once more after he comes and Dan holds him throughout. He stays. He makes everything feel okay.

Dan keeps Phil’s heart open despite all the other forces willing it to close.

-

The day after, Phil goes through the motions. He goes to work. He makes sure to act like his regular self. Life feels different, though. Like someone turned up the brightness but not in a good way. Phil feels as though he has to squint to really see clearly. Like he’s vulnerable to the smallest things. Like the cool air he inhales on his way to work burns his lungs. Like the food he eats is dry and big and difficult to chew, no matter what it is.

Dan was attentive to him in the morning. When Phil came out of the shower, Dan had coffee and toast ready for him. Usually, Dan stays in bed when Phil goes to work if he doesn’t have an early morning. Phil appreciated the effort, and not going to work on an empty stomach like he tends to do. Dan suggested for Phil to take a sick day, but Phil isn’t sick. He couldn’t really argue when Dan said he was acting different, and even looked different. The glimpses Phil caught of himself in the mirror in the hallways showed him an even paler version of himself. But he doesn’t take sick days over nothing.

Despite all of this, Phil isn’t actually thinking about yesterday. He’s not repeating the most hurtful words in his mind. He’s not overthinking. Instead, he feels sore. His heart is hurt and tender. His mind and body were so full of tension and heavy feelings yesterday that today he feels almost empty now that the worst of it passed. Like he’s just a shell, cold and frail, pretending to be a person.

After work, Phil goes to his and Anja’s flat. Dan has work for another couple hours, and Phil doesn’t want to be alone at Dan’s flat. He’s not picking Dan up at the shop after work. The mere idea of that makes Phil feel ill.

Anja is at home when Phil makes his way there. She’s walking around in a big t-shirt and no bottoms, cleaning up, listening to something in her in headphones. The light coming in through the window behind her makes her features indistinct; a silhouette of a person. Phil can’t help but feel like that’s what he is today. Maybe that’s what he has been for a long time.

It seems no one else is around right now and for that, Phil is thankful. He takes off his shoes and releases a big breath. He feels like he could sleep for the rest of the day. It doesn’t make sense just how much more effort everything takes today.

Anja notices him when he walks into the lounge. She smiles widely, takes off her headphones, and approaches him. Then her smile falters as she comes close and gets a proper look at Phil’s face. She looks just like Dan did last night. Like something is seriously wrong, and that she can tell just by looking into Phil’s eyes.

It’s painful just to be looked at like that. All the little corners of Phil’s mind start working again, reminding him of why he can’t hide himself right now. Why he feels these feelings. What happened. The pity makes him want to cry. Anja hugs him before saying anything. Phil leans down, holding her close for a second, and sighs.

“Martyn’s been calling for you,” Anja says quietly. “I think he’s worried about you.”

Phil stands up straight again and feels his aching, weak heart take on another weight.

“When?” he asks. His voice comes out sharp.

“Last night,” Anja says. “This morning.” She takes Phil’s hand and tilts her head to the side, looking up at him carefully. “Again when I got home from work.”

Anger flares inside of Phil. He lets out an annoyed sigh.

“Why didn’t you call Dan’s?” he asks.

“I thought,” Anja stalls. “I thought it might be better to wait.”

“What did he tell you?” Phil suddenly feels hot. The shallow parts of him fill in with fear and anger and he can’t make sense of either emotion.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” Anja says. There’s an edge to her tone. “He didn’t tell me anything other than that you were acting _really_ strange last night. I think I get what he meant now.”

Phil squirms. His mouth feels tense. He feels like he’s about to cry. Anja pulls his hand, squeezing it gently.

“Come on,” she says, nodding towards the couch. “Let’s talk.”

She’s approaching this so differently from Dan. Phil doesn’t feel like putting on a fight. He’s so tired. He sits down with her, leaning his neck against the back of the couch. He closes his eyes and tilts his head up.

“Okay,” Anja says. The sofa shifts as she makes herself comfortable. “Tell me.”

Phil cracks an eye open to look at her.

“I know this isn’t really your thing,” Anja relents. “But please. Just talk to me.”

It’s one thing to know there are people there for you, people you could open up to. It’s an entirely different thing to actually do it. As soon as the door opens for more than just a short explanation, Phil loses all steam. None of it seems to matter. And yet it still matters enough for Phil to want to keep it to himself. The impulse is so strong, it feels nearly impossible to push back against. It’s much easier to say that everything is fine and let subtext handle the rest.

“Martyn talked about Dan at dinner,” Phil says. He cringes internally, as the still open wound burns hot. Phil really doesn’t want to poke at it.

“What’d he say?” Anja asks.

“He told Mum and Dad that I spend a lot of time with him,” Phil says. His mouth goes dry. “Then he made these weird fucking jokes about Dan being gay. And I’m afraid Tom might’ve said something. About me.”

Anja frowns. “Does he know-”

“No,” Phil says. “Martyn has no idea about us.”

“I meant Tom,” Anja says.

Phil loses his breath. He didn’t expect to talk about that of all things. He intentionally hasn’t entertained Tom’s part of this because opening up that box would release a load of questions and assumptions that Phil can’t handle right now.

“Tom,” Phil repeats, going choked.

Anja looks so confused. Her eyes never leave Phil’s and her expression is so telling in its worry, in its confusion, as she tries to untie all of the tight knots holding Phil together.

“Wait, _does_ he?” Anja asks. She sounds so shocked, almost intrigued.

Phil doesn’t tell people about this. The mere idea of telling Anja about his past with Tom feels impossible, even if time has passed and it wouldn’t have any real repercussions. None of that happened to the version of Phil he shows to other people. It all feels surreal.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “Tom knows about me, but I have no clue what Dan’s told him.”

“He knows about you,” Anja says. She seems distracted by finding this out, like it doesn’t make sense to her at all. It doesn’t really make sense to Phil, either. He’s known Anja for most of his life and she’s never actually met the person Phil is behind all of the lies.

Phil isn’t sure who he is behind them. He’s not sure he’s met that person himself.

“How?” Anja asks, scooting closer, taking Phil’s hand. Her voice has softened significantly.

Fuck. Phil has no way of escaping now. The suggestion of the truth is in the air and there’s no way of taking this secret back now. It terrifies Phil to think of it in that way. He can’t even fucking say it. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to even call what they had, all those years ago. He feels a need to protect Tom in this, too. Tom got his shot at normal. Phil doesn’t think he has the right to reveal that about him. 

“I used to fancy him,” Phil says, shrugging awkwardly, as he attempts to express himself through all the filters, all the rules. “He found out. He’s known about me ever since. I don’t know if he knows about Dan or even how he would.”

“Maybe Dan told him,” Anja suggests.

“It doesn’t matter,” Phil says, shaking his head. He can’t imagine Dan would tell a coworker about something like that. “All I know is that Martyn thought it was funny to joke about it at dinner. I couldn’t handle it.”

“Does Martyn-”

“No,” Phil says. “No one knows about me except for you, Dan and Tom. I couldn’t-when it comes to Dan I don’t care what people think of me. I just had to stop him from saying those things because Dan doesn’t deserve to be talked about like that, even if it makes me look bad.”

That’s the part that Phil can’t, won’t, regret. 

“You really love him,” Anja says.

She smiles. It’s true. Phil loves Dan more than anyone. He couldn’t ever feel bad about that. Right now, though, it doesn’t feel like something he can smile about. Not when all of this is weighing on him, affecting his relationships with other people, because it’s wrong in their eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to Martyn,” Phil says.

“I understand,” Anja says, and it sounds like she means it. “But you love him, too. You don’t have to choose between him and Dan.”

That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? Choosing between Dan and his family. Phil bends forward, buries his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes as the realisation truly rushes through him. He does love Martyn. That’s what makes it hurt. He’s so afraid that Martyn is going to judge him for all of this that he’s pushing him away. He isn’t giving Martyn a fair shot, really. Phil can’t even entertain the thought of Martyn being okay with this. It seems like an impossibility. There aren’t a lot of people that are okay with it if they’re not gay themselves. But then, Phil supposes there could be a small chance Martyn could come around to the idea. Phil can’t know unless…

“My family doesn’t know about me and Vicky,” Anja says. “We’ve got it easier than you guys in that way. No one really suspects anything when two girls have sleepovers every night. But even if they did find out, I don’t think they’d take it for what it is.”

“Lesbians are a myth,” Phil blurts out.

Anja laughs. “I always wanted to grow up to be a mythical creature. I guess I got my wish.”

Phil sighs a chuckle and looks back at her with a weary smile. Anja smiles back.

“Just think about it,” she says. “Martyn’s always been a good guy. He loves you, and I know he’s going to want to understand this. Don’t push him away.”

“I can’t,” Phil says. “Not right now.”

Anja rubs Phil’s back with a nod. “That’s alright, darling. Just don’t wait too long.”

Phil hugs her. He’s not feeling crushed anymore. They talked and it didn’t kill him. He glances at the bird painting, hanging straight over the hole it covers. It looks wrong. It’s been hanging sideways for so long that Phil’s become used to it. He remembers what Dan said about it, that night at the party. _‘I like the angle. Really turns it into something truly unique, don’t you think?’_. For the first time, Phil thinks he is starting to agree.

And so before Phil leaves to meet up with Dan, he makes sure to tilt the bird to the side. It seems right, for now. Maybe it always was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Song:** What She Said by The Smiths


	19. Chapter 19

Phil doesn’t want to waste a single second before Dan leaves on Monday. They have another day at their leisure before that, but no time is enough. No time could ever be enough if it’s with Dan. Phil always wants more, craves it. It doesn’t matter if they’re just sitting on the bed on a Sunday afternoon reading, not interacting. They’re together and that’s what matters. The reminder comes every time Dan does something like brush his fingertips over Phil’s leg hair when Phil’s sitting in bed by the headboard with his bare legs across Dan’s lap. The faint tickle of it makes Phil’s leg jump a little bit. They share a look, grinning. 

Phil has decided that he will wait until Dan’s gone before he calls Martyn. For some reason, Dan leaving seems like it’ll be forever no matter how little time they spend apart. Part of Phil gets a sickly feeling, like something bad is going to happen while Dan’s gone. He swallows it down in favour of enjoying the time they do have. He has no reason to feel that way, anyway. Dan is here and he is real and they are together. Despite how unbelievable this scenario would seem to Phil only a few months ago, this is happening. It might not look like much to the average person. Spending time with the person you love is not something the ordinary person would have to fight for or feel afraid of.

That is the part of it that feels surreal. He has fallen so deeply in love and even if he’s scared and it’s hard sometimes, he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

Dan is downstairs, getting snacks at the corner shop when the telephone rings. Phil’s just gotten out of the shower. He’s only wearing a towel around his hips, while rubbing another one over his hair. He makes his way over to the phone where it’s placed on the table by the window. He sits down on the armchair and picks it up. Phil is both nervous and intrigued, wondering who could be on the other end of the call.

“Hello?” he says.

Dan never introduces himself when answering the phone, so Phil won’t either. The person on the other end takes a breath, and it’s silent. Phil’s heart races.

“Hello?” Phil says again. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yes, sorry, hi,” the person says, clearing their throat. “Is Dan ‘round?”

“No, sorry,” Phil says, slipping easily into a polite tone. “He’s gonna be back in just a moment, though, if you want to stay connected until he arrives.”

The person chuckles. It’s a sweet, playful giggle that reminds Phil of Dan.

“Sure, thank you,” the person says. 

There’s an awkward silence and Phil squirms. He’s starting to feel a chill. It’s probably coming from the window. Even closed, Phil always thinks he can feel a breeze while sitting on this armchair.

“Um,” he stutters. “May I ask who is this?”

Despite his nerves, curiosity is getting the best of him.

“Dan’s girlfriend,” the person says. “Helen.”

Helen. Girlfriend. Phil’s mind is already spinning, his gut cut by a hundred daggers and falling apart at this very moment. He grabs the armrest for support, suddenly so dizzy he feels like he can’t sit up straight without grabbing it. 

“And you?” Helen asks.

She sounds nice, and clueless, and Phil is going to die. He can’t even feel. Instead he’s dealing with this strange dizziness, this ache in his stomach, this feeling like he’s again devoid of emotion, a fragile shell. He inhales a long breath and clears his throat as his never wavering need to be polite takes over.

“I’m Phil,” he says. His voice is shaking. He can hear it but he can’t stop it. “J-just one of Dan’s mates.”

Right then, the front door opens. The sound is so sudden and loud in Phil’s weakening mind that he jumps, dropping the telephone and turning his head swiftly to watch Dan walk inside. At first Dan is smiling but his face falls just as quickly when he meets Phil’s eyes. He puts away the bag he was carrying and rushes forward.

Phil fetches the phone from where it fell to the floor, held up by the cord like a lifeline. He stands up and hands it over to Dan.

“Your girlfriend,” Phil says.

Phil still can’t feel anything. He just stares steadily at Dan’s face as realisation seems to dawn on him and he looks desperate, reaching out to hold Phil by the wrist as he puts the phone to his ear.

“Helen, I’m going to need to call you back later,” Dan says.

His voice sounds so soft, speaking to her. Phil is frozen to the spot. This can’t be happening. Even if this is what always happens it really, really can’t. If it does, if this is real, Phil doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

Dan hangs up the phone.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says. “I promise you. It’s-I’ve-”

His grip on Phil’s wrist is so tight it almost hurts. Phil is completely limp. He’s not going anywhere. He couldn’t run if he wanted to. He doesn’t know if he can even speak. The sweet boy that he loves with the glitter freckles and the pretty eyelashes appears to be just as frozen now, opening and closing his mouth like he can’t find the words. Like he can’t think of a believable lie, or excuse, or explanation.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil breaks the silence by saying. “Why?”

Phil actually laughs. He can’t stop. The impulse is so strong and eventually he’s wheezing, struggling for air because everything is spinning and his abs are cramping. After only a couple heartbreaking seconds of laughter Phil’s throat closes up and he has to look away. The manic laughter threatens to turn into crying and Phil can’t cry right now. He refuses to.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Dan says again, louder, like that’ll make it more believable. “Phil, please. It’s just-we tell people we’re still together but we aren’t actually. I promise.”

“But you told me-” Phil shakes his head. As loud as his mind is, this moment is so quiet. “You said they’d ask you about her, and pressure you about it. Why-why wouldn’t you just tell me-”

“I was scared,” Dan interjects loudly, voice breaking. “I thought you wouldn’t believe me.”

It’s awful. Such an awful, awful reason. It doesn’t make any fucking sense. And it makes perfect sense, too.

Phil pulls his hand away and sits down on the bed. He feels exposed, just wearing a towel, but it’s not just because of that. A sick feeling of self loathing comes crashing over him.

Dan sits down beside Phil. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. Please believe me. If you want we can ring her up and she’d tell you the same thing. She already knows about you. I _promise_ , Phil.”

The words are coming out so slowly, so surely, almost as if Dan had this speech rehearsed and it took him a moment to remember it. At least he’s not touching Phil. He sits patiently and waits.

“I believe you,” Phil says, swallowing, and the choked feeling eases. His urge to protect Dan is present even now. He takes a deep breath and looks into Dan’s eyes.

Dan blinks. The silence is so fucking loud. The bomb starts ticking. 

“Okay,” Dan says, some of his urgency exhaled.

Phil gets up. He grabs the boxers that are folded on top of his stack of clothing on the bed next to Dan. He turns around and steps into them while Dan sits quietly, watching. Phil gets dressed in silence, putting on his t-shirt and trousers and socks in a slow, deliberate manner. Once fully dressed, he sits back down next to Dan.

Phil’s head jerks in an unnatural way when he attempts a casual nod. The sigh that’s meant to relieve him of all this tension comes out stuttering.

“What’s for supper?”

Dan lets out a strange noise, something like a snort but not the laughing kind.

“Are you joking?” he asks. “We have to talk about this.”

Phil looks into Dan’s pleading eyes and shakes his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says. His voice sounds uncharacteristically stern. “I understand. I believe you.”

In the midst of the shock and disappointment, Phil can see exactly why Dan did what he did. It makes perfect sense. Dan wants to look normal in front of his family, so he and his ex pretend to still be together. If Phil had that option, he probably would’ve done that too. Dan lied about it to Phil, because he knew how he’d react to the truth.

“Phil,” Dan says. He doesn’t sound affected by Phil’s authoritative tone. “It’s me.”

Dan tries to smile, as if to prove the point. It makes Phil’s heart pound, but not the way it usually does when Dan smiles at him. He looks away. Dan still doesn’t get that Phil doesn’t want to talk _because_ it’s Dan. Phil doesn’t think he wants him to understand that, either.

“At least let me apologise,” Dan whispers, looking down at the floor.

“I don’t want you to,” Phil says in a finalising tone. “Okay?”

The only outcome he can imagine, had Dan told the truth, is that he would’ve had to explain himself which would have put a wedge between them, because Phil is fucking impossibly insecure and he knows this. He’s been in this position before. He knows all the words they could say and he doesn’t want to listen to a single one. He doesn’t want to tell Dan about his past and explain why he’s reacting in this way. He doesn’t want to reveal anything.

It’s all just a matter of dealing with emotion, and Phil has no interest in that right now.

Dan opens his mouth, closes it. He seems at a loss. Phil takes a steadying breath. What used to feel solid between them is now wavering, but that’s okay. Phil made a mistake of thinking he could be sure of someone before. In some ways, all this is, is a reminder.

“So,” he says, taking Dan’s hand. It’s almost dripping with sweat, but he holds on anyway. 

Dan looks like he’s about to cry. Phil can’t let that happen. He’ll move on as quickly as possible.

“What’s for supper?”

-

There are two moments in Phil’s life he would count as his worst. 

In this case, ‘worst’ means life altering. It means experiencing a depth of dread that was previously unknown to him. It’s the kind of thing that’s so terrifying it feels like nothing right when it happens, and even after. The true extent of it doesn’t reveal itself until some time has passed, and it crawls up from under the dirt it was haphazardly buried beneath. That’s the moment that changes you, when the memory finally opens up inside and takes hold, altering that sense of self forever. The only way to move forward is to bury it back down. By becoming half a person. The part of you that remembers gets tossed to the side. But it’s only possible to do if you shut people out. No one minds knowing only half of you, really, unless they try to dig deeper because then they discover that there is no ‘deeper’ anymore. So you strain yourself to pretend to be a real, full person by avoiding anything that would reveal what just isn’t there anymore.

Phil was seventeen, he thinks. It’s hard to remember the details. Tom was coming home for a week during Christmas, and after a few months of not seeing him Phil was ecstatic. He’d been distracting himself by spending time with Anja, but that was all it was. Distraction. Waiting for time’s tide to pass on by, to catch him in a wave that would bring him to Tom.

Tom’s parents weren’t supposed to be at home the night it happened. Everything was perfect. While they agreed that what they had was a purely ‘for fun’ thing, the feeling in the bedroom was so much more than that. It felt almost desperate, and this time it wasn’t only Phil that held on just a little too hard. In hindsight, it was probably the most intense sex Phil has ever had. It was fast and he can’t remember the details of it but he remembers the feeling. It felt like hope, like possibility; a confirmation of the fact that this wasn’t one sided. It could become something, finally.

They’d cleaned up and got back into their boxers after. They went back to bed after changing the sheets. The scent was floral and Tom’s kisses tasted sugary and sweet. They were lying on top of the covers, moving gently together, half hard cocks softly nudging while they embraced, naked chest to naked chest.

They had been so caught up in all of it that they hadn’t heard the footsteps as Tom’s dad made his way to Tom’s bedroom. They had no clue what was about to happen until the door flung open and time stopped. Phil had been on the bottom, facing the door. Tom was on top of him. Phil remembers that because he was the one that looked straight into Tom’s dad’s eyes. He remembers because he had felt so helpless when Tom went completely still on top of him, not turning to see who was at the door. Phil supposes it didn’t matter, because whoever it was, this meant the end of everything. Maybe it was even a good thing that Phil was alone in knowing for those few seconds, before Tom too realised that it was the worst person who could catch them.

Phil couldn’t feel. Tom got up, pulled on a t-shirt, and faced his dad straight away. Nothing in his voice sounded pleading. It was matter-of-fact, devoid of the kindness Phil had learned to associate it with.

It’s hard to remember the details, but the memory of the moment Tom’s dad raised his fist is still clear as day. When Phil finally unfroze and launched forward and somehow overpowered him by grabbing his wrists and shouted at Tom to leave, _now_.

Tom’s dad had deflated right then. Because Tom didn’t leave. He remained behind Phil as Phil’s legs began to shake. He let go of Tom’s dad and he cried, because he’d thought he’d been about to get hit.

“I won’t lay a finger on _you_ , Lester,” Tom’s dad had said. “If I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I wouldn’t want to take you home to your mother all bloodied and bruised.”

Phil stayed with Tom for the whole night. Neither of them slept. Phil had been there with him and calmed him down when he panicked and cried. Fifteen minutes of pure terror, plain to see on Tom’s face, followed by an hour or less of rest only to work him up for another episode of panic. This went on like clockwork for several hours. Or at least that’s what Phil thinks he remembers happening.

The fear that that moment instilled in him remains there to this day. No matter how many pieces of himself Phil is able to discard, that one remains. 

Tom only came home once after the incident, to help his dad move out of the house in exchange for keeping quiet about him and Phil. They had sex that night. As sad and haunted as they felt, they still found comfort in that closeness. They were in it together. They could move forward, with the support of one another.

They didn’t see each other often, and they knew that whatever relationship they had had a time limit. Once Phil went to university, it would be nearly impossible for the two of them to see each other regularly. Maybe that wouldn’t have had to mean they couldn’t still be together, but it felt like that at the time. Regardless, the solidarity they had with one another after what happened remained and that was the thing that kept Phil afloat for the year that followed. He could go on because he wasn’t carrying it all alone.

So the second thing, the next life altering moment, was what pushed Phil over the edge. It was the moment when he was told about Linda. He found out one day when Martyn had come home to visit Phil and their parents after spending a weekend at Tom’s flat. He’d said Tom wasn’t acting like himself. Phil was about to feel sick with worry, wondering if Tom felt as alone as Phil did, when Martyn added context. The context being a girl that Tom was now seeing.

They never had a proper chat about it. Phil didn’t want to talk. He couldn’t. He saw no chance of winning Tom’s heart back if it had been taken by a girl. Phil would have felt selfish to even try. 

The one true support Phil thought he had in life went away, and even though they still shared the memory and the feeling, it was different now.

That was when Phil silently broke in half. He has been able to keep it hidden for a long time. It wasn’t exactly difficult to do at first, but now it feels nearly impossible. Now there are people that are insistent on exploring the depths of him. But there are no depths to find. Phil can’t give them what they want. He can’t give Dan what he wants, not really. 

Phil refuses to react to Dan’s little lie because it really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And Dan lets him refuse. They have supper and they have sex. Phil attempts to bury the memories that this evening brought forth in the feeling of his and Dan’s bodies moving together, but not even that works today. Not like it usually does. Dan pets Phil’s hair as Phil buries his face in the crook of his neck. Their cocks are moving together inside the grip of Phil’s fist. Dan whispers reassurances that Phil didn’t ask for. He’s scared of them, and he craves them, and he loves Dan so much it hurts. Even if Dan keeps comforting him. Even if Dan refuses to pretend like nothing happened. Phil couldn’t stand to be anywhere else. 

He has fallen so deeply in love. He’s scared and it’s hard.The frightened part of him isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but in the end, he stays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** You Just Haven't Earned It Yet, Baby by The Smiths
> 
> Please go check out this gorgeous [moodboard](https://judearaya.tumblr.com/post/618403816957755392/for-intoapuddle-s-beautiful-times-tide-thank) made by my beta reader @judearaya on tumblr! Thank you so much for this and for your unwavering support of me and this story. 🐦💙


	20. Chapter 20

Things manage to feel sort of normal, come Monday morning.

Dan still treads lightly. He’s been careful with Phil since he came home after family dinner on Thursday, but this is different. Dan is behaving out of guilt now. Phil can’t make that better, it seems. It doesn’t matter that he refuses to feel hurt by Dan’s lying.

They don’t have breakfast before leaving for work. Instead, they use all the time they possibly have to remain close before Dan leaves later today. They don’t have sex, neither of them wants to. They’re just in each other’s arms, and while things are shifting between them and Phil grows certain that Dan will no longer be his when he comes back home, he manages to enjoy it.

“Wanna have lunch with me today?” Dan whispers. He kisses Phil’s bare shoulder.

Phil nods before he can think about it. Dan beams at him.

“We can get sandwiches and sit outside in the park behind the shop,” he muses, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. “So you’ll come to me?”

When he smiles at Phil he looks happier, less guilty, than he has all morning. Phil reaches out and strokes his soft, smooth cheek. Dan is so beautiful, but every moment with him feels like the last. Dan will see Helen at his grandmother’s birthday and he will realise just how much easier it is to love her than it is to love Phil. Phil can’t even feel sad. What he feels is something much more complex than sadness, but after the last time he’s learned how to hide it.

“Yeah,” Phil says. He doesn’t want to go to the record shop, he doesn’t want to see Martyn or Tom. But right now, the strangeness between himself and them feels less important than it did yesterday. He’s not interested in putting up a fight anymore. “As long as it doesn’t rain.”

“It won’t,” Dan murmurs, kissing the palm of Phil’s hand.

“How do you know?” Phil asks.

Dan looks him in the eye with half a smile on his face. “I just have a feeling.”

Phil smiles back. He makes sure to actively memorise Dan as he is right now, half naked in bed with Phil in the morning. With Tom, he didn’t have the option of recognising all of their ‘last times’ for what they were. He didn’t get the chance to appreciate them as that. He does now. Phil is going to make sure to appreciate every single second as much as he can.

-

The first few hours of work feel like the whole day felt last Friday. Like every little task is a massive effort. Only, on Friday Phil had something to look forward to. He was shaken, and hollow, and sad but he knew that comfort was coming the moment he was with Dan again. He wants to feel that way now. He’s on his way to the record shop. It’s raining. Dan’s not far away. 

Though Phil hasn’t fully lost Dan yet, he has already lost something. The thing that built him up to feel brave enough to pursue what was happening between them, despite the past nipping at his heels, urging him to stop and stay inside the fear it instilled in him. Hope. The idea that this time could be different. Right now, the concept feels so foreign to Phil that he can’t understand why he thought that.

Walking inside the record shop, he is reminded. Dan turns around from where he was stacking records onto a shelf on the wall, and he smiles like nothing’s wrong. Like he loves Phil, still. That is the thing that keeps pulling Phil in; loving Dan. Loving Dan so much it hurts.

Tom walks out from the backroom and approaches Dan. Phil waits by the exit, watching them speak to one another. Tom glances over at him, then looks back at Dan. He looks good, still. His arms are still muscled and toned and full of freckles. Phil looks down at his own feet as the memory of being wrapped up in them washes over him, so vivid and so real as though it happened only yesterday and not five years ago. When he looks back up, they’re both looking at him. They’re both so beautiful and they’re both so kind and Phil wants to run.

Dan waves him over, so Phil goes. He approaches these two people that are really just physical reminders of what Phil knows deep in his heart to be true. That he is a person that people leave behind. That there will always be a girl on the horizon to charm them with the promise of a normal, happy life. They have the opportunity to have both of those things at the same time, so why wouldn’t they take it?

“You guys can leave, if you want,” Tom says with an easy, kind, gut-punching smile. “I’ll take over here.”

“Thank you,” Dan says with a kind smile of his own to match.

“It’s raining,” Phil says.

They look at him, turning their heads simultaneously, then look back at each other. It feels like something is happening beneath the surface but Phil has no clue what that could be.

“That’s alright,” Dan shrugs with a grin. “We’ll just have it in the break room. I don’t think anyone else is on break now, is there?”

“No, no one else,” Tom replies, as if he’s sure of it. As if he, for some reason, _made_ sure of it. “You’re safe.”

Phil furrows his eyebrows as discomfort rises up inside of him. Tom meets his eyes with an unwavering air of certainty. Phil’s skin prickles, and his throat closes up, while Dan looks between them.

Phil takes a breath, just about to break the awkward silence by taking Dan into the backroom when Martyn comes over. He grins easily like he always does and puts an arm around Phil’s shoulders, side-hugging him tightly like everything’s normal. Phil goes empty.

“Fancy seeing you here, Phil,” he says. “What’s the occasion?”

“We were just going to have lunch,” Dan says. There’s something sharp in his voice, one that Phil hasn’t heard before and can’t make sense of.

Martyn looks down at Phil and raises his eyebrows. Phil twists out of his grip.

“You came all the way over here just to have lunch with Dan?” Martyn asks.

Phil remembers the look in Martyn’s eyes after Phil got out of the car last week. How confused and regretful he had looked. Right now that might as well have been a strange dream. Martyn doesn’t seem to catch on to anything, as if Phil hadn’t shouted at him because he made fun of one of his friends last week. Anja’s reasonings feel so far away now.

“Yeah,” Phil says. He’s got an urge to remind Martyn of what he said in the car. That anything between Phil and Dan is none of his business. “He’s going away to see his family and girlfriend today.”

Dan makes the smallest noise as Phil emphasises the word ‘girlfriend’. Phil can’t say it any other way. It comes out rough, angry, even if he doesn’t want it to.

“Oh,” Martyn says. He glances at Dan, as though he’s trying to imagine him with a girlfriend of any sort. “Alright.”

He doesn’t question it further. The tension is getting to Phil. All the unspoken little lies and truths between all these people, they all begin to crush him at the same time. Dan nudges his arm, and Phil moves forward in a stiff, robotic manner. Right. Lunch.

Tom grabs Phil’s wrist. Phil stops. The tension in his body is nearing a panic. He snaps his head back at Tom. The anger that Phil can usually take comfort in hurts now. He wanted to reach out to Tom, at some point, when it felt safe. He wonders why he ever felt that urge.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says.

Phil’s stomach drops, but he manages to just look confused. Dan stares at him.

“About the rain, I mean,” Tom says, but it’s a lie. “Shame, isn’t it?”

Phil can feel exactly what that means. Tom is recognising that Phil is in the same situation with Dan that Tom put him in all those years ago and he feels genuine remorse over it. Phil wants to laugh in his face. It’s too fucking late now. His pity means nothing to Phil.

“It’s alright,” Phil says without a single speck of feeling or inflection in his tone.

Dan seems nervous. Phil is ready for this to be over with. But Tom has more to say. He smiles.

“I reckon it’ll clear up faster than you think,” he says, then lets go of Phil’s wrist.

Tom really thinks that, still. It must be easy to think good things will happen when you haven’t been thrown aside before.

“Sure..?” Phil says, or asks, in a huff. “Thanks?”

The three of them share an awkward laugh and it feels awful. Dan pushes Phil’s shoulder, and they take to the backroom. As promised, it’s empty. Dan is quiet as he takes the sandwiches he brought for them to share out of the fridge. Phil sits down on one of the old, unstable chairs. Dan slams the refrigerator door shut and hands the sandwich to Phil.

“Wha-” Phil begins to say, shaken by the suddenness of Dan’s actions.

Dan sits down across from him and starts eating. Phil wants to savour every moment he has with Dan before it’s over, but there’s nothing here to savour. Something has changed. Dan stares at Phil as though he’s got something to answer to.

“It was Tom,” Dan says.

“What?”

“You told me you’d been with someone before me,” Dan says. “It was Tom, wasn’t it?”

“Shh,” Phil shushes him, glancing at the shut door to the break room. Dan’s speaking so loudly. Phil feels sick.

“No one can hear us,” Dan says. His lips tremble. Like the flip of a switch, the tension and anger on his face turns into a look of heartbreaking sadness. “ _Tom_ can’t hear us.”

“What does it matter?” Phil asks, trying to align all the thoughts and lies and the logic he made up to feel alright about them. “What’s it matter if it was Tom?”

He still can’t speak in anything other than possibilities. He can’t admit to it. Phil is starting to recognise how little sense it makes but he still holds his ground.

“Matter?” Dan repeats in disbelief. “It’s not about what ‘matters’. You didn’t tell me it was _him._ That’s odd, Phil. That’s fucking odd. I see him every fucking day.”

Even though Phil has felt so certain Dan is going to leave him for Helen, right now he feels desperate. For what, Phil isn’t sure. He hates the sound of Dan’s voice, the sadness in his face, the weight that lies heavy over them both.

“You never tell me anything,” Dan says. “You have never told me a single thing about yourself.”

“There’s nothing to know!” Phil says, raising his voice, and it feels true. He doesn’t have the depth Dan needs from him.

_There is nothing to know. There is nothing to know. There is nothing to know._ The words go on repeat in Phil’s mind, desperate to conceal what lies behind them.

He leans his elbows on the table and covers his face with his hands. He’s no longer just a bird in a cage. He’s completely frozen, wings clipped, with no space to roam. He can’t see the world outside. He’s trapped inside of himself and the metal bars of the cage. He wants to believe that it’s the world that has constructed this cage for him. He wants to believe that he’s helpless and justified in staying inside it. But the bars are wide enough for Phil to fit through, if he wants to. His wings weren’t really clipped. He pulled the feathers off himself, one by one.

Phil puts his hands down and opens his eyes to Dan’s thoughtful scowl. 

“Tom’s married,” Dan says. Quietly.

Phil’s mouth goes tight. He nods.

“Happily married,” Dan goes on, taking in every single miniscule reaction on Phil’s face. “He won’t stop talking about Linda. I’ve seen her come into the shop before. What they have is real.”

As much as Phil wants to prove to Dan that he’s not affected by that, and be able to look right into his eyes as he says those words, he can’t. He looks away as he imagines just what Dan’s describing and it crushes him. He thinks about lying in bed with Tom the night after Tom’s dad tried to attack him, the way Tom sought comfort in Phil and an unbreakable bond formed between them. But that wasn’t ‘real’. Nothing that can so easily be pulled straight out of your grasp could ever be ‘real’.

Dan leans forward. Phil keeps staring at the wall.

“That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?” Dan whispers. “That’s why you’re so afraid.”

_There is nothing to know._

“Is that why you can’t trust me?”

Dan leans back on his chair. Phil looks back at him. All of the memories that blind him go away for a second and he shakes his head.

“I do trust you,” he says.

_There is nothing to know._

Dan is silent for a moment, deciding something. “What happened between you and Tom?”

Phil’s throat goes tight. Dan notices. His eyes soften and Phil wants to fucking die. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want Dan to know he doesn’t have all that. He left the part of himself that held onto those memories behind. He has no answers to give.

“Nothing,” Phil says.

Dan looks so disappointed. He takes a steadying breath and leans forward, elbows on the table.

“You said you trusted me.”

His voice breaks. He looks away, shutting his eyes tightly, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s not in on the way Phil says these things. Phil tells himself he’s not lying so much as he’s making a promise. He _will_ trust Dan, one day. He’s not ready to now. But he wants Dan to know that if there is one person Phil can imagine maybe, possibly trusting in the future, it’s him.

Phil can’t say any of that, though. It feels literally impossible. He doesn’t know anything else to say that could convey it, either.

“I do,” is what he goes with.

“So tell me,” Dan challenges, looking him straight in the eyes.

It’s not fair. Phil shouldn’t have to be forced to relive it. He can’t revive the part of him that’s still in agony, never fully leaving the depth of dread he reached. He doesn’t know who he would be, taking that on. Why doesn’t Dan understand that? Phil feels the anger rise up inside and it feels good.

“I _can’t_ ,” he says in a finalising tone.

Dan’s face falls. Phil’s anger is replaced by soul sucking guilt.

“Well, I can’t do anything with that,” Dan says, matter-of-fact. “You’ve never fully trusted me, have you?”

Dan takes a breath, calming, taking the edge off the question. He looks at Phil with new eyes that Phil doesn’t feel capable of being the subject to, but he has no choice. He wants to protest, but the words get stuck in his throat. A while ago it felt like he wasn’t lying, or hiding, at all anymore. He can’t remember when it started again. He didn’t even notice when it started to happen, when it all became too much.

Phil has never felt as out of control as he does now. All of the effort he’s put into protecting himself has resulted in nothing. He can’t control what Dan sees, or knows, anymore. There is no way to wind the clock back. The tide has already come and rather than bringing them safely to shore, Phil got stuck in the undertow and was forced underwater. He can’t find Dan down here. He can’t breathe. Phil can’t sit comfortably. He can’t remember what he used to do with his hands or feet or mouth. He feels the need to shift and squirm even though none of it makes him feel any less exposed.

“Whatever happened made you scared,” Dan says.

Phil doesn’t want this. He refuses to be scared. The scared part of him is gone. It has to be. He can’t live with it.

“You can’t talk about it for some reason and that’s why you don’t want to talk about me and Helen.” Dan looks so sad. “It brings the old stuff up. That must’ve been-” His bottom lip trembles. “-that must’ve been _horrible_ for you if you can’t even-”

“Dan,” Phil interrupts him. He can’t stand to hear any more.

“Please, just believe me.” Dan’s voice cracks again. He shakes his head, gathering himself, leaning forward. “I won’t leave you.”

The reassurance hurts. It’s like a threat. Luring Phil into believing that Dan is his, that what they’re building is going to grow and become solid, only to be snatched away right in front of his eyes. Tom said similar things, back then, and the only way Phil has been able to cope with that is by pretending like it didn’t mean what he thought it did. That Phil shouldn’t have put as much importance into it at the time as he did, and that he shouldn’t now either.

“You don’t _have_ to trust me yet,” Dan says. He puts his hand palm up on the table between them. “But you have to-I need-I want you to talk to me. Please.”

Phil hesitates. He looks down at Dan’s hand, then back up at his face. 

“Something happened to you,” Dan says. “I don’t know what, but it must’ve been-you’re still recovering from it, aren't you?”

Phil takes Dan’s hand. Dan wants him to say something, anything, and Phil can’t even give him that because he’s buried it so deeply. He squeezes Dan’s hand harder than he has to in order to stop it from trembling in his grasp.

“I’m not recovering from anything,” Phil says, making himself sound sure and convincing and like he can take over control, yet again. “I’m alright.”

It’s not a lie. It’s another promise. He _will_ trust Dan one day. He _will_ be alright. He used to think that, anyway. He has no clue why he makes the promise now. 

“I’m here for you,” is all Dan whispers.

He’s held Phil in moments like these before but he never knew what he was holding together. What shape it took. What it meant. He doesn’t know now either, but he has a clue. Phil trembles as he lets his hand go limp in Dan’s hold. Dan wraps his fingers around the back of it. It’s not tight enough that Phil can’t pull away, but he chooses to stay. 

Dan doesn’t ask for anything Phil can’t give. 

Phil lets out a shuddering breath and Dan sits in the awful silence with him. He waits, even though he doesn’t know what lurks inside of Phil, what he’s really waiting for. Phil nudges Dan’s foot under the table.

“I love you,” Phil whispers, because that’s the only true thing he can say for certain right now.

“I know,” Dan says. He believes him. “I _know._ I love you, too.”

“I should’ve-” Fuck. Phil is too proud to admit to this. But Dan wants him to say something. So he’ll give him something. “I should’ve told you it was Tom.”

“I should’ve told you about Helen,” Dan says.

Phil winces at the reminder. 

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Dan says. “I don’t want it to. It’s just a lie we tell for now, to stop people from asking about relationships. I don’t have any feelings like that for her anymore.”

Phil looks back at him. He feels empty.

“I’m not choosing,” Dan says back to whatever expression is on Phil’s face. “It’s not actually a choice, Phil.”

That’s one of the things that hurt the most, with Tom. Phil was desperate, angry, and sad about being left on his own with the weight that they used to carry together. And like with Martyn, he can’t properly hold Tom to the resentment it created. Tom loves Linda. He fell out of love with Phil. He still recognises what they had as love, even if Phil can’t. It’s not a choice. It’s just that Phil knows that if it was, Tom would’ve chosen Linda. That’s what’s unfair.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “But if it was, you’d choose Helen.”

Dan frowns. “No.”

It’s said with enough feeling for Phil to know not to talk back.

“I want you and I want to want you,” Dan says. “I want to love you.”

“Fuck.” Phil covers his face with shaky hands.

Part of him is tallying up all of the reassurances Dan gives him as things he will remember when Dan inevitably leaves him, things Dan said that won’t be true anymore that will crush him once he’s alone again.

“I’m here for you,” Dan repeats.

Phil feels so weak. He forces himself to try. “I know,” he says, but it doesn’t feel true. 

He wants to believe it. He’s not sure he ever will. He doesn’t know if Dan’s okay with that, and that’s the thing. Phil is so damaged, Dan doesn’t even know the start of it. He shouldn’t have to deal with that on top of all the other hardship that comes with a relationship like theirs.

Dan sniffles.

“We have to go back to work,” he says.

Phil looks at him. The uneaten sandwiches lay pathetically on the table. They share a half-smile as they look down at them and realise at the same time. Phil doesn’t know if Dan’s given up or if he’s just put this on pause, but Phil’s not one to believe anything other than the former.

This is the last time they’re seeing each other before Dan comes back from Reading. So despite everything, Phil risks it. He circles the table and takes Dan into his arms and kisses him on the mouth even if anyone could walk in at any moment. Everything Dan said is true. Phil can feel that. He just can’t trust whether it will keep being true later. He can’t trust that Dan won’t change his mind completely once he’s with Helen. So he holds Dan as if it’s the last time he ever will and it kills him inside.

They part ways after Dan whispers a final reassurance in his ear. He’s repeating everything. That he loves Phil, and that he’s there for him. Phil can’t even speak. He just holds on as tightly as he can before he has to let go and leave, hoping it communicates enough.

Phil walks back to the library on unsteady feet as his heart clenches with the anticipation of loss. His eyes fill with tears. The clouds are clearing and it’s stopped raining. A line of crows sit on top of the roof of a building before they take flight, creating a triangle formation in the sky. Phil wishes he could join them. He wishes he could take Dan and fly far, far away from everything that hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** William It Was Really Nothing by The Smiths


	21. Chapter 21

Phil comes back from work in the afternoon, head full of thoughts surrounding the fact that Dan is now on the train to Reading. He grunts out a greeting to Anja and Vicky who are cuddling on the sofa in the lounge as he makes his way to the kitchen for coffee. He’s walking on heavy feet. He can’t really figure out if either of the girls can tell. The sadness and dread feel so big Phil thinks he must reek of it as he walks through the lounge on the way to his room, coffee cup clutched in a tight fist.

“There are biscuits if you’d like some,” Vicky says.

Phil trembles. He stops, making sure to hold the coffee cup steady as he looks back at the girls. Sure enough, there is a plate of pastries on the table in front of them.

“I brought some from work,” Vicky goes on with a smile. “They were about to go bad. I may or may not have told my boss about this.”

Anja giggles, leaning closer against Vicky’s side. Phil’s not one to say no to sweets under any circumstances except for apparently this one. He shakes his head.

“No, thank you,” he says, trying desperately to smile. “Maybe later.”

He adds the last two words because the look on Anja’s face tells him that she’s definitely noticed that something is wrong. He doesn’t say it because it’s true. He says it because he wants to take the severity out of whatever she’s imagining. It’s almost amusing, the fact that turning down a biscuit would suggest that something bad has happened.

“Fair enough,” Vicky says. “You’re welcome to grab one, though. I don’t think pastry theft applies to the people that just eat the stolen pastries.”

Phil smiles at her joke because he can’t laugh. He can’t be amused, really. With a nod and another ‘thank you’, he makes his way into his room and closes the door behind himself. He puts the cup down on his desk, taking a seat, and glances at the Morrissey poster above his bed. 

_Under the iron bridge we kissed_   
_And although I ended up with sore lips_   
_It just wasn’t like the old days anymore_   
_No, it wasn’t like those days_   
_Am I still ill?_

The lyrics pop into Phil’s head as if they’d been sitting in a corner of his mind, waiting for the moment to come out and crush him. The only consolation Phil can really take is that Morrissey must have a hard time with love, too. Despite how open and confident he seems, the lyrics suggest otherwise.

In some ways, the constant aching of Phil’s heart does feel like an illness. Only, illnesses can be cured, and Phil’s not sure he’s ever recovering from this one. He takes a sip of coffee and recalls his conversation with Dan. Phil flinches at the suggestion that Phil is ‘recovering’ from something. It’s not recovery. Despite the promises Phil makes, he’s growing less and less confident he’ll ever fulfill them.

Phil pulls the walkman out of his backpack and rewinds his The Smiths cassette. He puts the headphones over his ears and clicks ‘play’.

It has been a long time since Phil listened to these songs alone.

They have all become wrapped up in memories of being between the sheets with Dan. It’s almost impressive how quickly the songs changed meaning for him. Before Dan, listening to the Smiths meant that Phil was in bed alone in his room, desperate to feel understood. Now every single chord, every tremble of Morrissey’s voice, every little lyric, is tied to Dan in some way.

_So, goodbye_   
_Please stay with your own kind_   
_And I'll stay with mine_

_There's something against us_   
_It's not time_   
_It's not time_   
_So, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye_

By the third song, Phil is already crying silently. The coffee’s finished and he’s laid down in bed. There’s something against him and Dan, there has been all along, but it’s not the world. It’s not the law. Love and companionship can survive those obstacles. The real threat is Phil. He’s the one that stops them every time their bond is about to deepen. For every time Dan has asked him if anything’s wrong, for every time Phil has responded with a ‘no’, the bomb has started ticking once more. It was never a countdown to when he and Dan finally gave in to their attraction to one another. It was a countdown to the end of it. That is truly when the bomb will detonate and destroy everything.

Phil is sound asleep when someone shakes his shoulder. He blinks, pulling the headphones from over his head. He opens his eyes to Anja as he sits up and adjusts his glasses with a yawn.

“You’ve got someone on the phone,” Anja says.

It’s already getting dark outside. Phil has no clue how long he slept.

“Who?” he asks, too sleepy to panic over the options and which one’s the worst.

“Martyn,” Anja says. She tilts her head to the side. “Couldn’t really bear to lie to him one more time, babe. It’s about time that you talk now, isn’t it?”

Phil wants to say that it’s not ‘time’ for anything anymore. It doesn’t matter. All the fire Phil built up inside, protecting Dan from Martyn’s harsh jokes, has blown out. He doesn’t feel it anymore. There’s nothing to talk about, and time was never on Phil’s side.

“Sure,” Phil says. He can hear the upset in his own voice.

Anja probably wants to ask. She probably wants Phil to confide in her again. Phil gets out of the room before she can, heading straight for the telephone that he refused to pick up only a few days ago.

“Alright,” Phil says, leaning against the wall with the phone to his ear.

He closes his eyes. He’s so tired.

“Alright!” is Martyn’s chipper response. 

Phil suppresses a sigh. “What did you want?”

“It was nice seeing you in the shop today,” Martyn says, not missing a beat. “I never realised you and Dan were that close.”

Martyn says it like an apology. Like he gets why Phil reacted last week, to some extent at least. 

It hurts. Right now, the fear of being found out is not louder than the ache Phil feels, knowing that what Martyn says isn’t actually true. Despite everything, him and Dan were never closer than Phil allowed Dan to get to him. 

“We aren’t,” Phil says, speaking slowly and without feeling. “I thought we were, but-”

He stops himself. Martyn is silent.

“Oh,” he says. It’s the same way he said it in the record shop earlier. That uncertain tone, like he’s not sure what Phil means and is afraid to ask. “Sorry about that.”

It’s been a long time since Martyn said something so genuine to Phil. Something that wasn’t veiled in humour, sarcasm, or teasing. Something that wasn’t followed by a laugh. For a moment, it feels like when they were boys and Martyn was the person Phil went to when he felt sad. When Martyn always cheered him up by making up some game or by taking him to Deborah’s house, because he knew that the birds calmed Phil down. Phil aches for that time now. He misses the person he was as a child, open and free, before growing up shut him inside of himself. When he would tell his big brother he was hurting and his big brother cared enough to comfort him.

Martyn still cares now; even though he might never truly understand Phil, despite all of the clues pointing to the fact that Phil is gay.

“Thank you,” Phil says.

“Don’t say that,” Martyn says. He laughs, but the sound is inviting rather than anything else. “I’m your big brother. I’ve got to look out for you.”

Phil can’t respond.

“Anyway,” Martyn continues, moving along with ease. “Would you mind coming into the shop after work tomorrow? Dad’s visiting on Wednesday.”

That only means one thing. Martyn wants the shop to look spotless, and he can’t afford to pay someone to do it. Phil’s helped out plenty of times in the past. Martyn always says it’s easier, faster if they work together.

“Tom’s helping out as well,” Martyn says. “It’ll be like old times, just us three. Except now we can buy beer by ourselves.”

Phil doesn’t want to. Despite how much he longs for the simplicity Martyn remembers, it was never that. At the best times, there was still a secret hanging heavy in the air, one that Martyn wasn’t aware of.

“And now we have to clean up a whole shop,” Phil adds instead of answering.

“You’re right,” Martyn snickers. “Maybe it’s not like old times after all. But at least it’s the three of us.”

“Yeah,” Phil breathes. “I don’t know.”

“Dan’s not coming back until the end of the week, right?” Martyn asks. “His next shift is on Friday, so.”

“So?”

“So you’re free,” Martyn says. “He’s the one that’s taking up all of your time otherwise, isn’t he?”

The connotations of Martyn’s statement would have buried Phil in fear at any other time. He’s explicitly describing the first few months of getting on with someone new, the way you can’t prioritise anything other than time spent with that person. Martyn might not get what it means himself. No matter how obvious it is, Martyn doesn’t see two blokes getting on the same way as if Phil had been spending all of his time with a girl.

“Yeah,” Phil says. He doesn’t care how it sounds. After all, it’s over. “I suppose I don’t have an excuse.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Martyn says triumphantly.

Phil doesn’t want to, but he’ll make sure to get out of it some other way. “See you tomorrow, then.”

It’s a finalising thing. Phil’s about ready to hang up the phone on the wall when Martyn speaks again.

“You know it’s just banter, right?”

Phil feels more caught now than he did when Martyn was talking about Dan.

“Yeah?”

“I appreciate you helping a lot, actually,” Martyn goes on. “I always think you get that, but I’ve started to notice you don’t really go along with it anymore. You don’t say much back.”

Phil’s throat hurts as he swallows, unsure of how to respond.

“You sound so sad lately,” Martyn says. “And you’ve not been coming ‘round to Mum’s and Dad’s as much. And Thursday-”

It feels like earlier, with Dan. When Dan started listing things he’d noticed and led him to some conclusion that’s way too close to the truth. Phil feels defeated.

“Anyway,” Martyn says, thankfully not getting into the argument they had that day. “I think it could cheer you up. I miss hanging out, just us three.”

“Yeah,” Phil says, because he is quite literally lost for words.

“We’re not supposed to mention these things because we’re blokes,” Martyn says, but in a voice that makes it sounds like he disagrees with the sentiment. “But you’re my brother. You get what I mean? I want you to be happy.”

Phil would put up a fight, pretend like everything’s normal. He’s got no depth and all that. He just can’t right now. His defenses are down and his brain is providing those memories of Martyn making everything okay and now he just wants that. Even if that means he has to deal with Tom, too.

“Sure,” Phil says. “I get what you mean.”

“Alright,” Martyn says. “Well, see you tomorrow then.”

There’s something vulnerable in the air that makes Phil want to tell Martyn he loves him. That he appreciates him, too. That he’s sorry he keeps pushing him away, and that it’s not his fault. But he can’t, and he won’t.

“Right, Phil?” Martyn beckons him.

“Right,” Phil says. “See you.”

They hang up. Phil lets out a long breath.

“How’d it go?”

Phil jumps from the sound of Anja’s voice. She’s been sitting on the sofa this whole time without him noticing, and that realisation puts every awkward feeling Phil’s had today on edge. He shakes his head, forces himself to smile. He just wants to be alone.

“It went okay,” he says. It’s true, he reckons. “I’m going to bed.”

Anja tilts her head to the side. She’s calm while Phil feels like he’s running in place. The bird painting is a mockery. It hangs sideways because Phil tilted it himself. It makes him feel even more stressed out now. Like a physical reminder that Phil’s made his own bed. He set the scene to make every person in his life misunderstand him. For once, ‘everyone’ includes Dan. The fact that they’re all starting to see past the misunderstandings and into the truth of Phil’s heart should feel good. But it doesn’t. Phil isn’t ready for any of this.

He says good night to Anja, brushes his teeth, and gets into bed. Dan is probably back home now. He could be staying with Helen. He could be in her bed right now. They could have had some wine, one thing leading to the other, and-

Phil buries his face in the pillow and attempts to breathe. No matter what thoughts he thinks right now, he can’t know what will happen. He can’t prepare for it. He treated every moment with Dan today as though it was their last, and it served as no consolation to him. It didn’t make anything into ‘more’ or ‘less’ than what they would’ve been, had he not viewed them from that perspective. Phil tries and tries and every time it’s to no avail. He just can’t seem to get things right.

Phil doesn’t sleep. It’s just conscious thought turning into nightmares, on loop for hours. All of them include Tom and Dan.

-

Phil can’t remember the last time he saw Deborah. It hits him while he’s at work the next day, trying to focus on staying out of the painful paths his mind is trying to take. Mum talks about her sometimes, still. Every time, it’s as a reminder that Phil shouldn’t look up to her. She talks about her like she takes pity on her, living her secluded life with the birds. Phil didn’t understand why Mum talked about her like that, even when he was young and not as prone to questioning the world around himself. He’s got no doubt in his mind that Mum is satisfied with her life. She’s been satisfied working part time, while putting most of her focus on managing the house and raising Martyn and Phil for all those years. Phil just never understood why she’s been so insistent that that’s what everyone should want or need for themselves.

Mum says the same thing often. That life is all about family. In her mind, that means children and a spouse. From what Phil remembers, Deborah never made such statements. She never said much at all, at least not to explain how or why she chose to live alone. Thinking back, what Phil remembers is being taught how to care for birds. He remembers being told that there was nothing wrong with him. He remembers the feeling of relief, not being put under the pressure to behave in any way that was unnatural to him.

At first, being with Dan was like finally acting naturally for the first time in years. Like stepping out of his own house and into Deborah’s, where he was free to ask questions and be quiet and not pretend. Dan still feels like relief, in some way, if Phil doesn’t think about everything else surrounding their relationship. What makes things hard is that Phil hasn’t been able to shake his unnatural impulses. At first glance, protecting yourself seems like the natural thing to do.. Phil has been protecting himself his whole life. He hid behind Martyn at home and tried his hardest to look less emotional and more strong. That’s not a way to live, is it? Always hiding, always explaining himself, always holding himself accountable. Never feeling strong. It’s always been about other people, and how they view him. Even with Dan, Phil played a part, and fed off the ways Dan reacted to that role.

Phil doesn’t know who he is without all these acts and it terrifies him to think about it. For a moment, he once again wishes he could step out of his own house full of rules and restrictions and consequences no matter what he tries to do. He wants to walk back inside Deborah’s house and relieve himself of all of this pressure and to stop thinking about himself as a performer. On the outskirts of every social situation, subconsciously taking the position of an observer rather than a participant, desperately hoping that no one else notices.

He’s locked himself in with no way of getting out. Phil ends his workday with his heart still in his throat, making his way to Martyn’s record shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Still Ill by The Smiths


	22. Chapter 22

It all looks normal.

The record shop is empty apart from Martyn, Phil, and Tom. Phil doesn’t have to say anything. He doesn’t have to do anything. He’s sitting on a chair drinking beer while he watches Martyn and Tom sort records into their proper places, while chatting about a music group Phil isn’t familiar with. Phil really has constructed his life around these impulses to protect himself. He remained close with Martyn and Tom rather than the friends he had that were his own age because with the two of them he wasn’t forced to do anything but be there, really.

Right now, all it feels like is emptiness. Just like at home, Dad asking for help with fixing a birdhouse means that Martyn assists and Phil sits around to watch. As long as he’s not forced to speak or participate, Phil won’t have to reveal anything. He’s made himself the little brother of life, along for the ride. He’s learned how to be satisfied that that’s all he gets to do.

The difference today is that Martyn seems to check on him. Every once in a while, his eyes catch on Phil for longer than a fleeting glance, and Phil has to smile or nod in return for Martyn to get back to what he was doing. Martyn wants him to be happy. Phil isn’t sure what ‘happy’ means anymore. He was happy for a while. It was easy as long as Dan accepted Phil evading any difficult topic. Phil had thought that if he got this, a connection with another person while his family remained unaware enough to love him unconditionally, things would work out. Now, Phil is growing more and more sure that things won’t ever work out. He can have exactly what he wants and still feel miserable and afraid and haunted by his past. But at least a smile and a nod is enough for now.

They all help out cleaning the windows. There’s music playing and they all remain mostly silent for it. Phil does one window and Tom does the other, while Martyn goes back and forth between them. He seems so happy. He keeps saying he’s with his favourite people, and that this feels like old times, and that he appreciates them helping. Tom glances at Phil and Phil glances back. It should be as easy as Martyn makes it. But the past is present in every little look, in every little lying smile of agreement.

“I need to go outside,” Tom moans once they’re finished with the windows.

The three of them are sitting around the table in the back of the store. Martyn shrugs in response with a smile.

“I just have to mop the floors and we’re done,” he says. “You could go, though, I guess.”

“No,” Tom shakes his head. “I mean, I’ll just be out for a quick moment. I’m getting a headache.”

“I can’t afford the good cleaning stuff,” Martyn defends himself.

“I know,” Tom grins. “Relax.”

Phil barely takes the conversation in. He’s got a slight buzz after finishing two beers, and for now it makes things easier.

“What do you say, Phil?” Tom asks. “Care to join?”

Phil tries to soften his glare but he’s tensing, knowing he’s trapped.

“I think Martyn needs help,” Phil says.

“I’m fine if you want a break,” Martyn says. He gives him that look again, like he’s checking in, making sure Phil’s okay.

“That’s okay,” Phil says. But that look remains on Martyn’s face, that caring thing that is only soothed by Phil going along with whatever is happening. “I mean, I could take a break, I suppose.”

As expected, the look softens and Martyn smiles. Phil avoids Tom’s kind eyes, continues to play his part.

-

They make their way outside to the park that Phil was supposed to have lunch in with Dan yesterday. The September evening is oddly warm, dark but serene. Next to Tom, walking in silence, Phil is reminded of the night of Tom’s wedding. If they hadn’t brought up Tom’s dad that night, would things have escalated like they did? Phil removed himself from everyone after, no longer interested in playing his part, then snapped right back into it the moment he and Dan got together.

“You’re with Dan, right?” Tom asks.

They’ve reached the small fountain in the middle of the park. Tom sits down on a bench facing it. Phil remains standing. He looks right into Tom’s eyes, unsure of how to answer the question. Dan said nothing is changing. Dan said that he’s there for Phil. Dan seems so sure, he always has, and Phil still can’t trust any of it.

The only response he comes up with is a shrug, a dejected sigh. “It’s complicated.”

Phil sits down. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, looking straight ahead at the water splashing in the fountain. A hand lands on his back. Fuck. Phil’s eyes shut, as the immediate comfort of the touch conflicts with how hurt he still feels.

“It wasn’t always complicated, was it?” Tom asks. “Dan’s been so happy until this past week.”

Phil looks back at Tom. At his strawberry blonde hair and his freckled pale skin and the kind eyes. He’s seen him in his worst moment, and Tom has seen Phil in his too. They share that, still, somehow. It’s there right between them, tying them to one another, no matter how hard Phil tries to resist.

He wants to blame it on Tom. All of it. It would be so much easier.

“I found out he’s still with his ex,” Phil says. “I mean, not together, just that his parents believe he is. He lied about it to me.”

“And his ex is a girl?” Tom asks.

Phil nods. His eyes fill with tears. He doesn’t want to watch Dan marry a woman, too. He can’t. He can’t lose him. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do or who he will become if he goes through that again. Is it possible to continue to go through life with only a fourth of yourself left to cling to?

“He says he doesn’t want her,” Phil manages to say. “He says he wants me.”

“Yeah?” Tom says, gently, rubbing his hand up over his shoulders.

“I’m scared,” Phil says.

He covers his face as the tears run down his cheeks. Tom moves closer. He wraps his arm around his back and lets Phil make himself small against him, fitting his head under Tom’s chin. Phil is taller than Tom now, much taller, but it seems right to try to fit against him like he used to. When they were young and afraid and excited, unaware of what was going to happen.

“He’s not lying to you, Phil,” Tom whispers.

Phil sits back up, steadying his breathing.

“He figured out that we-” Phil can barely say it to Tom. It’s that ridiculous. “That we used to be something. He got upset about it. He started asking all these questions.”

Phil can’t stand to look at Tom while he says it. He feels small, and stupid, and young. Tom keeps touching him. He knows that’s what works, what always worked. One hand on Phil’s arm, and the mountain doesn’t seem as daunting to climb.

“Why didn’t you tell him first?” Tom asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” Phil says. “Does it? I didn’t want to tell him about you. You got your normal life, right? I wouldn’t want to put that in danger.”

Tom frowns. “What?”

Phil wants to fucking cry again, but he stops himself. He instead shakes his head.

“I don’t have a normal life, Phil,” Tom says. “Normal people don’t get caught with their boyfriend by their dad and get abandoned because of it.”

Phil’s throat goes dry.

“It doesn’t matter that I ended up marrying a girl,” Tom continues. “My dad still wasn’t at the wedding, remember? And I’m still not heterosexual. I never will be.”

“Wasn’t it a relief, though?” Phil whispers. “When you found Linda?”

“Not for the reason you think,” Tom says.

Phil sighs. Tom keeps his hand on his arm.

“I couldn’t reach you anymore. We were growing apart and I was dealing with… a lot, yeah? Things had changed.” Tom swallows audibly. His voice is starting to sound choked. “You were really scared after what happened with Dad. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I still loved you,” Phil says, quicker than his brain can catch up with.

They stare at each other for a second and the world disappears. They never said that. Tom looks just as shocked as Phil feels.

“I loved you too,” Tom says.

Something unlocks in Phil’s chest. He’s not sure what it is. He’s numb and feeling at the same time.

“I needed you too much,” Phil says. “It fucking destroyed me when you-”

He can’t finish that statement. It’s too raw. He can’t say all these things. The part of himself that Phil has been trying to reject won’t budge. It’s truly stuck to him, pouring out all of its grievances. Phil can barely keep up.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. “I’m so sorry, Phil.”

Phil lets out a noise, something between an exhale and a sob.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Tom continues. “I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve talked to you. I just wanted to protect you from all of it, somehow. I thought I did that by keeping you out of it.”

Phil shakes his head. “It doesn’t work like that, does it?” he asks. “You couldn’t protect me. That wasn’t your job.”

“But you’ve done the same to Dan, haven’t you?” Tom says. “You won’t talk to him about all of this. About me.”

“It’s not the same,” Phil says. “That’s the past. He had nothing to do with that.”

“But it’s got everything to do with you, doesn’t it?” Tom asks. “It still matters, because you matter to him.”

“I don’t want to lose him,” Phil says. Some type of urgency is rushing through him. “I can’t.”

“What makes you think you’ll lose him?”

Phil is overwhelmed. His reasonings are all coming in and contradicting one another and suddenly there’s a clear distinction between the world inside of him and the world outside of him. He sighs, wringing his hands together.

“If you have the option to be with a girl and be happy,” Phil says, “you’ll take it, in the end. Dan’s only nineteen. He might feel convinced now, but I know it’s too hard. It’s too hard for me, too. I’ve never been strong enough to be who I am, and if there was another option I’d take it. I don’t blame you or him for it.”

Tom stares at him silently as he speaks. It’s all pouring out, really pouring out, and there’s no way of stopping now that Phil’s started.

“You don’t mean that,” Tom says. “If you could choose between a ‘normal’ life and Dan, what would you choose?”

“Dan.” Phil doesn’t have to think about it to know.

“Yeah,” Tom says with a half smile.

Tom is making a fair point, but it’s still not quite convincing.

“I feel so alone, though,” Phil says. His throat feels tight. “It’s still different for you and Dan. I don’t actually have that option. Of course I’ll choose Dan over anything, but I’m scared to. I’ve been left to deal with everything on my own before. I can’t hope that that won’t happen again.”

Tears are rolling down Phil’s cheeks. His back is hunched. He feels the hollowness of the life he’s describing and it threatens to tear him apart from the inside.

“You’re not alone, Phil,” Tom says. “You’re not looking at a lifetime of loneliness, no matter what happens in your relationships. You’ve got me. You’ve got Anja. You’ve got Martyn.”

Phil shakes his head. “I can’t tell Martyn about this.”

“I know,” Tom says. “Not yet. But he’d be okay with it. He’s okay with me.”

In the car after family dinner, Phil had suspected that Martyn knew about Tom. It was there in his eyes, and rather than thinking, Phil had panicked. He was so afraid it meant Martyn knew about him as well that he forgot to consider that Martyn’s still friends with Tom.

“You-” Phil swallows. “How?”

“I told him about my dad,” Tom says. “I didn’t say it was you I was with, I just told him what happened. I explained that I’m bisexual. He’s okay with it.”

“Bisexual,” Phil repeats. He’s heard the word a few times before, but never from someone that identifies with it. “What if you’d been with a guy still, then? Do you think he’d be okay with it?”

For a moment, Tom looks like he did years ago. Regarding Phil with knowing eyes that used to be so easy to trust. As long as Tom was there, things would be okay, because he was older and understood the world. It’s not as easy to trust that now, but some part of Phil still feels soothed.

“Yeah,” Tom says. “Martyn cares about people. He cares that people are happy, you know? And you and Dan, you’re happy together, right?”

It hurts to think about that, or even acknowledge it, now. But Phil nods.

“So if you’re both happy,” Tom shrugs. “That’s what matters to him, too.”

Phil wants to believe that. He can, in some distant way, even imagine it. Hope is scary, though. Phil has been through enough to know that. Tom looks convinced. Even if neither of them really know how Martyn would react, Tom looks sure about his assumption. Even if it’s always different when it’s family. Even if it matters that there’s no way for Phil to be with a woman.

They’re quiet for a moment. Phil doesn’t feel angry anymore. He doesn’t have the energy for it. Tom’s story makes sense. He’s not a villain. He tried and failed to protect Phil, just like Phil has been trying and failing to protect Dan.

“You should talk to Dan,” Tom says. “About everything. He’ll understand. Don’t make the same mistake with him as I did with you.”

Phil looks into his kind eyes and this time he doesn’t flinch. He accepts that kindness. It isn’t a gut punch. All this time, Phil wanted to do what Tom did. All this time, there’s been a countdown to when that would make things end in the same way as they did between Phil and Tom. But Phil’s been too blinded by his conviction that everything Tom did was right. He had trusted him enough to think that even when what Tom did hurt him. It’s jarring to hear it be described as a mistake, but that’s what it is. That’s what it was.

Because it’s all of Dan and half of Phil, trying to build something together. Phil has been trying to protect Dan for all this time. Make sure that he wouldn’t have to go through what Phil went through. But right now, that is exactly what is happening. Dan is all in, and Phil isn’t.

“Okay,” is all Phil can say.

A crow makes a sound from one of the bushes surrounding the park. It takes to the sky. Phil isn’t sure how much he’ll be able to tell Dan yet, but now he knows he wants to. He knows he should. The world won’t end. Some things can be fixed. Phil looks at Tom and Tom looks back at him, and as they do their bond changes. There is still pain, and fear, but they are on the same side of things. They probably always were. They were looking out for each other in their own ways all along, hoping to do the right thing.

After they return to Martyn, they don’t stay long. They finish up the little bits there are to do and they all part ways. Phil is tired, and a bit shaken, but he doesn’t feel like he’s about to break.

-

When Phil makes his way back home, he runs into Anja in the stairs to their flat.

They both stop, surprised. Anja is already smiling.

“I’m going over to Vicky’s,” she says. There’s more to it, Phil thinks, looking into her eyes.

“Okay,” he says, moving to make room for her to walk down. “Spending the night?”

“Yeah,” Anja says.

She’s trying so hard to seem indifferent. Phil frowns. He’s just about to ask what’s up when she looks away and starts walking down.

“See you tomorrow!” she shouts, hurrying now. “I’ve got a bus to catch!”

“Anja-” Phil calls for her.

“Bye, Phil!”

Phil hears the front door to their building close as Anja leaves. He keeps going upstairs. It’s probably good that he’s getting a night alone. He has a lot to think about. Some readjustments to make in his mind.

He thinks this until he opens the door to the flat. He immediately notices a difference. A different smell. Shoes standing neatly on the floor, black sneakers that Phil would recognise anywhere.

Phil doesn’t think. He doesn’t even take off his shoes, or his jacket. He just walks into the lounge to find Dan sitting on the couch. He’s wearing a black polo and fitted jeans; clothing Phil’s never seen him wear before. His hair has been brushed and gelled down into a style that looks way too adult for his age. But Dan’s face is the same. It’s open, and beautiful, and he’s _here_. Out of all the places Dan could be, he’s _here_.

Dan stands up as Phil remains frozen, blinded by the rush of emotion falling over him, holding his breath as if taking one would make Dan disappear.

“You’re here,” Phil says.

Dan blinks rapidly. A tight smile forms on his lips.

“Of course I’m here,” he says in a thick voice.

The shock becomes something else. As though Phil is stepping into a completely new space. Something more open, something more vulnerable, something more trusting. He makes his way over to Dan on shaky legs and pulls him into his arms. He’s stepping out of his own house and into another, freeing himself from the cage he created.

Dan hugs back just as tightly. Phil’s breathing goes erratic, feeling Dan’s chest against his own, Dan’s hand cupping the back of his head. He’s here. Phil pushes his face against the side of Dan’s neck and cries. He can’t hold it back. He doesn’t want to anymore. Phil has no reason to appear strong. He can’t protect Dan from the world by hiding himself, by clipping his own wings.

“Phil, what’s wrong?” Dan asks quietly. His voice trembles. “Are you crying?”

“I was so scared.” Phil clutches Dan’s t-shirt. “I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

He subjected Dan to the same thing Tom put him through. He knows how difficult that is to deal with. Phil wishes he could turn back time and do things over, with these new realisations in mind. But the tide doesn’t work like that. It comes and goes and when it comes to certain things, all you can really do is try to stay afloat, try to make it to the shore unharmed. Phil’s not unharmed. Dan’s not unharmed. But they’re here. They’re together. 

“Shh,” Dan whispers, kissing Phil’s temple. “I told you. I told you I’d be back.”

“I know,” Phil whispers.

He pulls away to look at Dan’s face. He’s so strong. He always was. But there is something else in his voice, and in his eyes, that has nothing to do with Phil. Dan leans in and kisses Phil’s mouth. It’s brief, but it feels like everything.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

Tears spill onto Dan’s cheeks as he blinks. His face crumbles but he nods.

“I am now,” Dan says.

They hold each other. Phil’s going to ask more, but not right now. Right now, sharing space is enough for comfort. Words will come later. Phil knows this, and he’s not afraid. Not like he was before.

They make it to bed, in each other’s arms and breathing each other in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** Well I Wonder


	23. Chapter 23

There’s a hand on Phil’s bare chest. It’s moving up and down, up and down, as Dan’s mouth comes closer. He kisses Phil’s neck. Phil shudders, taking Dan’s hand, as he breathes in deeply. He’s just woken up and the rush of blood going through his body at Dan’s touch is making his head spin.

Dan keeps kissing him. He’s close, practically glued to Phil’s side. Phil can feel his hard cock against his hip. They’re naked, intertwined beneath by Phil’s duvet. Phil pushes his lips against Dan’s. Dan deepens the kiss immediately. Phil wonders how long Dan’s been awake for. He seems so desperate, so riled up already. Dan’s cock is sliding against Phil’s skin, wet with precum. Phil moans against his mouth.

“Mmh.” Phil shifts, pushing his hand down between them to take Dan’s cock in his hand. “What’s gotten into you?”

Dan sighs as Phil’s grip goes tighter. “I just- _oh_ -I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Phil whispers. “I missed touching you.”

Dan makes a noise of agreement as Phil wanks him slowly to even out Dan’s erratic thrusts. They move, Dan sitting up against the headboard while Phil gets between his legs. Phil pushes the duvet aside and bends down to taste the head of Dan’s cock.

Dan’s thigh muscles jump. He grabs onto Phil’s hair. The sensation rushes through Phil. He can feel that slightly painful grip all over his body, all the way to his bloody fingertips. 

“Sorry,” Dan says, softening the grasp.

Phil didn’t even realise he’d stopped. He just knows his own need spiked from one second to the other just by the touch of Dan’s hand in his hair.

“It’s okay,” Phil mumbles.

He situates himself on his stomach between Dan’s legs and takes him back inside his mouth. Pushing the foreskin down, Phil licks around the cockhead, eyes closed. Dan’s legs shake as he gasps. Phil takes a moment. He pushes the shaft against his lips and breathes out through his nose. Dan gently combs through his hair.

“You can pull it again if you want to,” Phil whispers.

“Hmm,” Dan sighs. “What?”

Phil forces himself to look up at Dan’s face. He’s turned on beyond belief and looking at Dan from this position is probably going to drive him crazy.

“You can pull my hair,” he says. Dan’s eyes twinkle with excitement. Phil swallows. He doesn’t feel as embarrassed as he thought he would, asking for this. “I want you to.”

Dan tugs gently at a few strands of Phil’s hair. Phil’s hips roll by their own accord. His cock slides against the mattress because the need for friction is just that innate. His balls go tight as the slight pain of Dan’s grip rushes through him again. Dan makes a small noise and Phil shuts his eyes again, takes Dan’s cock back in his mouth. He sucks hard, spurred on by Dan’s grip getting tighter. 

Eventually they get into a groove. Dan pushes Phil’s head slightly down, making him bob his head, while Dan fucks between Phil’s lips. Phil has every opportunity to take over control, but he doesn’t want to. He lets Dan do as he pleases and he adjusts accordingly. Swallowing and breathing steadily through his nose. Dan doesn’t go deep. Still, it feels daring and exciting. Phil fucks the mattress while Dan kind of fucks his mouth and it’s not something Phil thought he’d allow to happen to himself but he fucking loves it.

Dan pulls Phil off his dick. Phil takes a much needed deep breath through his mouth. They look into each other’s eyes. Dan’s are, somehow, soft and affectionate. It almost makes Phil emotional.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Dan says.

“Me too,” Phil smiles.

He gets up, straddles Dan’s thighs, and takes them both in his hand. Dan’s cock is wet with precum and Phil’s saliva. The slide goes easily enough that Phil’s hand almost slips.

“You’re so hard,” Dan groans. “Just from sucking me off.”

“Yeah,” Phil says. He leans in, slipping his tongue between Dan’s lips, slowly working their cocks together as they share a messy kiss. “I’m so fucking close.”

He chuckles. Dan grins and kisses him again. He grabs him by the back of his head and holds him there, hard, as Phil’s strokes get faster and he starts to fuck his own fist while Dan does the same. They’re moving unevenly right next to one another. Phil can fucking feel Dan’s dick twitch against his own. It’s filthy but amazing. Dan is moaning against Phil’s mouth. He’s going to come at any moment now. Phil squeezes their dicks tighter together. That’s all it takes to make Dan come, groaning chokedly. Dan’s cock pulses come over Phil’s fist and dick, warm and wet enough for Phil’s muscles to go rigid. The orgasm shakes through him as he bites down on Dan’s shoulder. Phil thrusts weakly, going with the feeling as far as it will take him.

They’re breathing hard once Phil’s let go of them. He wipes his hand over Dan’s stomach, making Dan giggle. Phil laughs. He sits up to look at Dan’s face. He is so cute and pink. Phil tickles Dan’s stomach again until he squirms and pushes at Phil’s chest. Phil grabs Dan’s wrists. They move and squirm against each other until Phil is hovering over Dan. He’s holding Dan’s wrists down against the mattress, above his head. Dan’s gelled curls have gone messy, springing out at random places.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” Phil says. 

He looks down at Dan’s pretty chest. His nipples, the dark hair in his armpits, his ribs visible when his skin is pulled taut. The way his shoulder muscles look when his arms are bent in this position makes them look that much more defined and that much more mouth wateringly masculine.

“Yes please,” Dan grins. “We both know you’re stronger than me.”

It catches Phil off guard. He’s reminded of another time, in Dan’s bed, when the tension between them was almost unbearable. Phil’s eyes roam Dan’s little freckles. He thinks about how lucky he felt then, getting to look at Dan’s face for long enough to notice them.

“No,” Phil says, shaking his head. “I’m not. You’re just letting me take over, aren’t you?”

Dan smiles, a dangerous playfulness displayed on his face. Phil’s afraid for a second, but then he shrieks a laugh as Dan flips them over with ease. He did it so quickly Phil forgot to even put up a fight. He squirms, being the one on the bottom. It only takes him one look into Dan’s eyes for him to relax, though. The playfulness is gone, replaced by that precious affection before Dan leans down to brush his lips over Phil’s. Phil tilts his chin up. The kiss gets hotter. Dan releases Phil’s wrist to take his hands, to let their fingers interlock.

“We’re both just as strong,” Dan murmurs. His eyelashes are so long, so pretty. “I’m not competing, anyway.”

Phil kisses the side of Dan’s mouth. “Me neither.”

They kiss for a while before they get up to shower and have breakfast. It’s all so much, but it’s not suffocating. Dan is _here_. He’s the one wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist from behind, fitting his chin over his shoulder to laugh at his shaky hands and take over, to spread butter over the toast and kiss Phil’s cheek. There aren’t any ghosts to pull Phil into their grip, because this is incomparable to the past. This is something entirely different, something that feels solid and important in a completely different way.

Phil doesn’t have to think about being happy right now. He just is. 

-

Phil is looking right at the bird painting covering the hole in the wall of his flat. It’s still hanging sideways. Just a couple days ago, that felt like a mockery. Right now, while Dan sits in the armchair with his coffee in front of it, it feels completely right. 

“I’d thought you weren’t coming home until tonight,” Phil says.

They’ve been quiet for a little while. Dan doesn’t look surprised by the broken silence, though. He simply sips his coffee and nods.

“I thought so too,” he responds.

Phil’s already finished his coffee. He pulls the blanket up over his legs on the sofa, leans his chin on his hand, watching Dan chew his lips while looking away thoughtfully. He’s not really looking anywhere but inside himself, Phil doesn’t think. His eyes are blank but still full of something.

“I went to Nan’s thing,” Dan says, looking back at Phil. “Took Helen. Listened to everyone talk about me moving like it’s temporary. I didn’t disagree.”

Dan shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter that they think that,” he sighs. “But they wouldn’t even listen when I talked about the things I’ve been getting up to here. Nothing about my job, or about you.”

Sadness covers Dan’s expression for a moment.

“I feel like they have so much hope for me,” he says, speaking quietly, looking down at Phil’s hands. “But it’s not the right kind of hope. They want me to be more ambitious in my career and settle down with Helen. They still think there’s a chance I will. But I won’t. I feel like I spent all my teenage years just setting my parents up for disappointment.”

“Did you know then-” Phil stalls, scratching his neck, “-that you would leave?”

Dan shrugs. “Not really. Not until I knew it was over with Helen. Then I realised nothing was keeping me there.”

Dan has always seemed so confident, so aware of everything. He hasn’t been shy in their relationship. He’s backed down at certain times, but there has never been any question about what he wants. He’s pushed them forward in their intimacy, physically and emotionally. Dan looks Phil in the eyes with that same awareness. Even though Phil was the one that started the conversation, Dan seems aware of where it’s going.

“I showed Nan a picture of you,” he says. A slight smile brightens his eyes.

“Really?” Phil blushes. He’s not sure why, but he feels like squirming, subjected to the affection in Dan’s tone.

“I’ve got that photo from our curry dinner in my wallet,” Dan grins. “My nan’s cool. She didn’t even ask why I had that photo with me like that. She just said you looked kind.”

Phil covers his warm face and laughs. “That’s a terrible photo.”

“No,” Dan says. “It’s beautiful just like you.”

Phil feels like spluttering and redirecting the conversation. He looks at Dan through his fingers.

“Beautiful,” Phil repeats in a dumb voice. “I’m not a girl.”

Dan raises one eyebrow with a smug, deliberate smile. “Oh, I’m very aware.”

His eyes flit down for a second, then up. Phil laughs.

“You always-” he starts, then stops, sitting back and putting his hands in his lap.

“Always what?” Dan challenges.

“You always _say things_ ,” Phil responds, uselessly. “You don’t seem scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Dan says. “It’s just us here. You know I like your dick.”

Phil splutters. Dan smiles so hard, leaning forward in the armchair, staring at Phil intently the way he does sometimes. He reaches out and Phil takes his hand. Phil’s heart is spilling over as their thumbs lock around the back of each other’s hands. He’s not used to the boundless affection Dan has for him. How confident Dan is about it. Phil isn’t sure he’ll ever not feel like bouncing off the walls whenever it’s especially intense, like now. But he finds that he quite likes that feeling anyway.

Dan’s smile fades. He looks down at their locked hands.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” he asks.

Phil hates the way he immediately tenses at the question. Like he can’t quite admit to it. Like he can’t quite lie about it, either. Lying’s never been fun, but it’s such a deep impulse now. To stop himself from redirecting the conversation takes more effort than he thought it would.

“Yeah,” Phil says instead. His heart races.

Dan looks into his eyes. He squeezes Phil’s hand when it starts to shake.

“I was always afraid that I was corrupting you,” Phil says. “That I was leading you down this dark path you wouldn’t have considered if it weren’t for me.”

He regards Dan carefully, watches his eyebrows twitch and then furrow in a frown.

“You’re probably the least corrupt person I’ve ever met,” Dan says with a shake of the head and a light smile. “Everyone else always judges, and asks questions, and you just accept things like they are. You accepted me as I am, mostly.”

Phil knows what the ‘mostly’ is about. He meets Dan’s ease and lightness with an attempted smile of his own. It’s easier to do than he thought. Some of the tension disappears when he looks into Dan’s kind eyes.

“You know what I mean,” Phil says.

It seems to dawn on Dan then, what it is he means. That he’s been afraid of corrupting Dan by pursuing their relationship. He’s been bombarded with the idea that being gay is wrong. Despite how natural it once felt, Phil had no defenses against that ridiculous notion once Tom was no longer his.

Dan tilts his head to the side. “We both know what we have isn’t _really_ wrong, though, right?”

Phil’s afraid to trust. He’s afraid to say things out loud. To release the thoughts in his head without taking them back, with no real control over the way they sound in Dan’s head. He has to talk, though. Dan wants him to. Words mean so much to Dan, that much has become apparent.

“I convinced myself that it was for the longest time,” Phil sighs. “After-” he looks quickly back at Dan, as if to warn for what he’s about to say, “-after things ended with Tom I decided to not be… that. All these scary feelings and experiences just proved that it was too much for me. I just wanted to pretend like it wasn’t who I really was. That I’d find a girl too, just like Tom did.”

It still feels the same, saying and thinking that. Like he gave up. Like disappointment in himself, that he couldn’t do that or be that, when both Tom and Dan could.

“It never worked when I tried,” Phil shrugs. “And then I met you.”

He can’t say that without smiling. Dan smiles back, some surprise behind his eyes as relief replaces the concern that was there before.

“Yeah,” Dan says, hesitating.

Phil leans forward. Dan does the same, giving Phil the kiss he wanted. His heart rushes, races, spills over, for entirely different reasons than before. He feels like he’s been found. There is so much warmth at his disposal, because Dan has so much of it to give. Phil wasn’t ready to receive it before, not to this extent. 

“What changed?” Dan asks when they part.

“I figured that nothing that felt so right could be wrong,” Phil says. It sounds so profound, so big, when he says it out loud. The words are almost too heavy for his tongue. “I’m still struggling. But it’s worth it now. You’re worth it.”

“Phil,” Dan says, voice shaky with emotion.

Phil swallows. It’s even harder to press on when Dan looks at him like this. That depth, that affection and admiration, that he still feels undeserving of. 

“I want to trust you,” Phil whispers.

Dan’s eyes fill with tears. They kiss again.

“What happened with Tom?” Dan asks. Quietly, gently.

Phil is going to do this. He decided last night, after speaking with Tom. Being here, on the very brink of sharing, is terrifying. There is no way to undo it once it’s been done. Dan waits patiently as Phil stalls. He’s not deciding what to do as much as he is gathering the courage to break through his own barriers. To finally open the cage he’s been hiding inside.

“We were together in secret for a long time,” Phil says. When they’re sitting so close, speaking so quietly, it feels a little easier. Like the world couldn’t possibly intrude on what’s between them. “We were always careful. We were-I-”

Phil swallows hard. Dan puts a hand on his knee, strokes it, reassuring. Dan is no longer flying around the cage, peeking inside. Phil’s let him in. 

“I loved him,” Phil exhales. “I really loved him.”

Dan nods. He doesn’t say anything. He listens, he nods, he’s _here_.

“His dad caught us,” Phil says. He uses more of his voice now, has to, to steel himself from the panic the memory brings forth. “It was bad. If it weren’t for the fact that he knew my parents he probably would have-”

Phil shudders, blinking back the tears to no avail. That pure dread comes from the very depth of himself, unfurled in his stomach, crackling up his throat, pushing out of his face. Dan’s mouth is tense, waiting, holding on to Phil so tightly now.

“Things changed after that,” Phil says. “Between me and Tom. He’d already moved away so we didn’t see each other as often but I was so scared and I became desperate in so many ways.”

Dan nods like he understands, truly understands; like Phil’s feelings make sense.

“When he got with Linda it really crushed me,” Phil says, shaking his head. “I couldn’t feel anything but disgust about being this way. I didn’t get why I couldn’t just change like I assumed Tom had.”

“Yeah,” Dan says.

“He didn’t change,” Phil says. He looks at Dan when he says it, wanting so badly for him to understand that Phil gets that now. “But I didn’t know that. We didn’t really talk about it at the time. It made everything so confusing. But we spoke-last night, we finally spoke about it.”

Dan raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Phil says with a weary smile. “It was hard. But I feel better now.”

They’re quiet for a bit. Phil takes a breath, trying to alleviate some of the tension inside.

“I don’t want anyone but you,” Dan breaks the silence by saying. “I was in love with Helen, for a bit. I always knew I had feelings for guys, though. Maybe stronger feelings than I get for girls, I don’t know, it’s hard to compare. I just know that I never felt the same for Helen that I do for you. Not for anyone. You feel that too, right?”

Dan is confident but some insecurity comes forward as he asks. Phil nods fervently, squeezing Dan’s hand.

“Yeah,” he says. “This is different. It’s… more.” He takes a breath. “It’s everything.”

“It’s worth it?” Dan says.

Phil nods, closing his eyes. His energy is draining. Everything that’s spilled out of him has left him feeling so vulnerable, weak in the limbs and numb in some unexplainable way. But Dan kisses him. He moves, sits down next to him, and takes Phil in his arms. He holds the broken pieces of Phil and now he knows what that means. Dan finally, truly knows what he’s holding. It’s scary, but he can’t resist it anymore. He doesn’t want to resist.

They kiss. They talk some more. They’re getting to know each other on a different level, finding each other in those dark places just as well as they do in the brighter ones. It truly is everything, so much more than anything else. They may still be inside the cage, but they’re together. The door isn’t locked. When the time comes, they’ll exit it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** The Boy With The Thorn In His Side by The Smiths


	24. Chapter 24

It’s quiet and safe inside the cage. Phil feels a lot more safe now that he shares it with Dan. It fills with secret confessions and stories that both of them were afraid to tell before. They don’t take up too much space. In the end, Dan and Phil are the ones who get to decide on the size of their shared cage. They can make sure that they’re still free to roam it in peace.

Phil’s relationship with trust is changing slowly. Rather than an immediate step over an imagined finish line, from not trusting to trusting Dan, it’s like the tide. It moves on its own, pushing forth and pulling back at different times, under different circumstances. Only, now Phil is aware of it. Just like birds know when to move on to warmer climates during winter, Phil feels ready to move on too. He might not know exactly where it’s going or when, he just knows that he needs to keep pushing forward. 

What both of these things come down to is time. Phil has made the decision to open himself. While he sometimes needs external coaxing and while he needs to remind himself, it ultimately comes down to allowing them both the pace they need. They’ve set the foundation for it now. 

There was no countdown after all, because time doesn’t stop. It’s a continuous thing. It won’t rewind. All it will do is move on forward. Phil takes comfort in that. Nothing will explode. There’s no time limit on learning how to trust as long as you keep working on it. Sometimes the ticking gets louder and threatening but time never actually changes. All that ever mattered was Phil’s perception of it.

Two months have passed before Phil next visits his parents. Martyn doesn’t mention Dan this time. They sit down for dinner and the conversation is just like it always was before. Martyn and Dad joke around and Mum fusses over Phil’s hair. Phil isn’t sure if the warmth he feels now wasn’t there before or if he feels it now because he can, but when Mum strokes his cheek and asks about work he doesn’t feel cornered. Phil can actually breathe inside of this house for the first time in a long, long time. 

The first time Phil flinches is when Mum mentions Deborah. 

“Yeah, she’s moved out,” Mum says. “Took her birds and everything. She’s a lovely lady, really. She came over to give a proper goodbye.”

“Oh.” Phil feels like the wind’s been pushed out of him.

He never really planned to visit her, but now that the opportunity has been taken from him he regrets not seriously considering it. Mum tilts her head to the side. They’ve finished their food. There are candles on the table, flickering softly. Dad and Martyn are talking about something on their side of the table.

“You always were very fond of her, weren’t you, love?” Mum asks.

There is no venom in her voice now. Phil manages a slight smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “I was.”

“I used to feel a bit jealous of that, to be honest.” Mum chuckles as she says it, but there is tension between her eyebrows betraying the levity she’s attempting. “Like you’d rather be at her house than with me. It’s silly, I know.”

Phil takes Mum’s hand. He can feel the softest tremble against his palm. It isn’t unlike his own shaky hands when he tries to conceal the way he truly feels.

Finally, Mum’s slight resentment towards Deborah makes some sense. It always sounded disapproving of her lifestyle, or like pity. In reality, it might not have had much to do with that. Rather it surrounded the connection Mum could clearly see between Deborah and Phil, one that she couldn’t access with her own son.

“I love you,” Phil says. He doesn’t remember the last time he told Mum that. It feels important to say it now.

He would like to be able to tell her that she had no reason to be jealous. He would like to be able to tell her that he felt just as comfortable at home as he did at Deborah’s house. It isn’t true, though, and Phil doesn’t want to lie anymore. So he’s chosen to tell one truth; a truth that doesn't hurt. He can tell Mum that he loves her and know that that is true. Phil can’t hope to truly explain the reasons behind the tension he felt at home and the freedom he felt with Deborah, but one day he might. Time’s tide has surprised him before, and it surely will again.

Mum smiles. She’s still hiding. Phil never noticed that she did that before. Her mouth is tight just like Phil’s would get in these situations. When Mum reaches out to cup Phil’s cheek, something reveals itself on her face.

“Oh, Phil,” Mum says with a small tremble to her voice. “I know. I love you too.”

She retrieves her hand just as quickly and pats her skirt, takes a deep breath. Phil can tell she’s about to move on quickly, that she’ll divert from the sudden honesty that appeared between the two of them.

Phil takes her hand back inside his own before she can say anything. It catches her off guard. Mum looks at him in surprise. Phil smiles at her. Mum smiles back. All this time, Phil was afraid that he wouldn’t be approved of, or that his mum thought of him as something less than Martyn. He never expected that she ever longed for that reassurance from Phil. It makes sense now, as Phil always sought comfort from other places. From Deborah, from Martyn, from Tom, but never Mum. It hurts to realise how blind Phil’s been to it for so long.

They don’t say more about it, but they exchange some looks. Mum seems to be in a better mood when she gets up to put away the dishes. Phil gets up to help her. Right now he doesn’t care that Martyn and Dad are talking about cars and that he isn’t doing the same, or even wants to. The ‘thank yous’ from Mum are nice. To try to do what comes more naturally to Phil is nice. Maybe if he doesn’t excuse himself or try to explain it, no one will question him about it.

It’s the end of the evening, and Martyn and Phil are putting their coats on to brave the November cold on their way back to Manchester. Dad stays in the lounge while Mum chats with Martyn in the hallway. They never really run out of things to say, those two. Phil hasn’t learned exactly how to be on the inside of social situations yet but at the moment, he doesn’t think he’s completely outside of it.

Phil hugs his mum before they leave. It’s just what they do to say goodbye, but Phil makes sure to hug her a bit more tightly than he usually does. He’s never caught on to Mum’s insecurities before and seeing them now only makes him love her more. This could be what Dan meant when he insisted on Phil opening up even in the difficult moments.

In the car back to Manchester, Phil feels a lightness and ease that’s become foreign to him in this context. There is music playing from the cassette player in Martyn’s car. Phil listens to Martyn hum along to the melody as he watches the trees on the side of the road change into streetlights the closer they get to the city.

“Should I drop you off at home?” Martyn asks as they get closer to Phil’s street. “Or are you going to Dan’s?”

There is a slight teasing tone, but it doesn’t sound genuine. Rather, Phil perceives it as an out. Like Phil could say something snarky or annoyed back, and it could easily count as banter. But there is also an in. An open invitation not to pretend. Phil is at the record shop often enough that it must be incredibly clear to Martyn by now, the fact that Phil spends more time with Dan than people usually do with even their very best platonic mates.

Still, there is a pounding in Phil’s chest, a wave growing so high it could easily swallow him whole. Phil glances at Martyn. They’re getting closer and closer to Phil’s street.

“No,” Phil says and clears his throat. It’s not a lie. Phil doesn’t have to elaborate, but he realises that he wants to. “He’s coming to mine tonight, actually.”

Martyn pulls over by Phil’s building and smiles at him. He looks nervous.

“Oh, yeah,” he says as Phil unbuckles his seat belt. “There’s that new Smiths compilation album, isn’t there? You’re gonna listen together?”

Phil’s heart aches just a little bit, at how carefully Martyn makes sure Phil knows he isn’t trying to trap him.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “Definitely.”

They’re quiet for a moment. They sit in the tense uncertainty together. Phil isn’t sure what to do. Whether he should leave. The air is filled with words unsaid.

“He’s a good guy,” Martyn mumbles almost incoherently. “Dan. Right?”

Phil looks back at him. Martyn drums his fingers on the steering wheel and meets his eye. Phil nods, the tiniest movement, as fear grips him.

“He makes me happy,” Phil says, struggling through the clutches of his painful past.

There’s still an opportunity to deny what all of this truly means, and it’s what makes Phil feel capable of even responding at all. Martyn doesn’t even blink. Instead, he smiles. The nerves aren’t gone but they’re less prevalent now.

“Well, that’s the most important thing,” Martyn says. He pats Phil’s thigh, looking him in the eyes as he speaks. “Yeah? You know I think so?”

Martyn looks almost unfazed now. It makes Phil want to cry. His throat is going tight and his face is going pink. Tom was right. Martyn cares about Phil’s happiness more so than the details of it, or who he shares it with. 

Phil has spent a long time feeling resentful. Martyn’s always been so perfect, so kind, and at the same time so out of the ordinary because of it. He can be a pain, and teasing, and harsh. But he’s always accepted Phil. Even now. Phil takes a steadying breath as he nods, trying not to become completely overwhelmed.

“Yeah, I know,” Phil says. He tries his hardest to smile, but he can’t. There is still fear and disbelief residing in him. Something that wants to convince him that Martyn isn’t sure what they’re really saying here.

But Martyn keeps his hand on Phil’s thigh, giving it a final reassuring squeeze, before pulling it away.

“Good,” he says. “You’re not as stupid as I thought, then.”

Phil coughs a surprised laugh.

“Fuck off,” he says, pushing Martyn’s arm.

Martyn grins like the evil bastard he is, pushes Phil’s shoulder right back.

“Go,” he says. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Phil nods. The tears are so close now, but at least he can smile.

“Yeah,” he says.

Phil gets out of the car and rushes inside his building, up the stairs. He can’t wait to see Dan.

Phil walks in on Dan, Vicky, and Anja chatting in the lounge. The TV is on. Phil isn’t sure what they’re watching but he kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat as quickly as he can before practically running in. He’s filled with some lightness that he’s never felt before. Dan looks up at him from the couch and seems to notice a change. Phil can tell just by the brightness of his brown eyes and the tentative smile on his face.

“Good, you’re here,” Dan says. Phil leans onto his hands on the back of the couch and bends down to kiss Dan. “You have to save me.”

Phil laughs as he sits down next to him. Vicky puts on an evil cackle and makes a funny face.

“She’s definitely trying to overfeed me,” Dan moans exaggeratedly, draping himself over Phil.

There are only a couple biscuits left on the plate on the coffee table. Several of the muffin papers are gathered on Dan’s end of the table, as Anja is sat on Vicky’s lap on the arm chair.

“I didn’t know we had the company of the witch from Hansel and Gretel,” Phil grins.

“At your service,” Vicky says.

“I guess this is a good way to go at least,” Phil says, patting the slight jut of Dan’s tummy.

Dan gives him a look of absolute betrayal. “You’re supposed to save me!”

Phil grabs a biscuit and giggles. He rubs Dan’s stomach absentmindedly as he takes a bite.

“No, I can’t defeat an evil witch,” Phil says, then makes a noise of pleasure as he swallows. “I will join you in your sugary demise, though.”

“My hero.” Dan rolls his eyes.

“Ungrateful,” Phil tuts. “Not just anyone would offer to die with you, you know.”

“You’re just after the sweets,” Dan grumbles.

Phil puts away the rest of the muffin and kisses Dan’s forehead. They share a look, and Phil thinks about how true it is, what he told Martyn. Dan makes Phil truly happy.

“There,” Phil says. “Happy? I do prefer you to sweets.”

“Ew,” Anja whines from the armchair.

“Homophobe,” Dan says.

Anja laughs. Dan giggles. Phil isn’t sure how he got so lucky. He loves these people so much. He loves his life.

“Are we listening to the record or not?” Vicky asks with fake annoyance.

“I thought we were supposed to be the fans here,” Dan says. He gets up, towards the record player, and pulls the record out of its sheath.

“Well, I like them too,” Vicky shrugs.

“That’s perfectly fine,” Anja says. “You can like all the different types you want.”

Dan snorts. Vicky giggles. Anja and Phil look at each other in confusion for a moment before they let out an exasperated laugh each.

“That was so bad,” Phil moans.

“Shut up now,” Dan waves him off. He sets the needle on top of the record. “We’re listening.”

And so they listen to the record, kind of. New recordings of old songs as well as a few previously unreleased tracks, but tonight the Smiths are secondary to the time they’re all sharing together. As it turns out, no one really shuts up despite Dan getting annoyed. They talk and drink beer and Phil finally thinks he’s ended up in a situation in which he doesn’t just have to tolerate the people that come over to their flat for these nights of doing nothing but listening to music and talking. He’s completely in this, not just an observer, and that is something he didn’t even dare hope for not long ago.

They’re interrupted by the sound of something falling, followed by the crushing noise of breaking glass. All four of them look around, searching for the source, to find the bird painting on the floor. Half of the glass covering the picture is off, in pieces.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” Anja says as he she gets up and grabs the broom. “Finally. I’m so bloody sick of that thing.”

Phil laughs. Dan makes himself more comfortable against his chest. Anja looks back at the two of them, grinning. She sets the painting against the wall as she sweeps the glass into a pile. Vicky gets up to help.

“It’s not even a good painting,” Anja goes on. “I reckon I like the fuckin’ hole better.” She taps the wall just underneath the round indentation. “It’s not even that bad, is it?”

“You’re absolutely right,” Vicky says. She gives Phil and Dan a look that tells them Anja’s complained about this before and that it’s easier to just agree.

Dan chuckles at her sudden burst of emotion. Phil never realised Anja had such strong feelings about that painting.

“I’d rather look at that all day than worry about the painting,” Anja says. “Don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Dan says immediately.

“Yes,” Vicky agrees.

All three of them look at Phil, as if to finalise it. Phil shrugs with an easy smile. He looks down at the bird painting and all the thoughts he’s had surrounding it and for a moment he feels oddly fond of it.

“It’s not so bad,” he says. “It tried its best.”

“Tried its best?” Anja says, almost sounding properly offended.

Vicky laughs as Anja keeps complaining about it. She goes to grab a bin bag to discard the glass that Anja’s sweeped into a pile on the floor.

Dan looks up at Phil with a curious expression. Phil runs a hand through Dan’s curls and smiles.

In some respect, Anja is right. The hole that the painting was covering isn’t nearly as bad as Phil remembers it being. He doesn’t really think it’s a big deal, keeping it displayed like some strange modern art piece.

They keep hanging out until the record has played all the way through. After, they clean up and get ready for bed. It’s not as crowded as one would imagine. Phil waits on the sofa with Dan while the girls use the bathroom first, and he finds himself just looking. He looks into Dan’s eyes, at the long dark lashes surrounding them, at the last few remaining glitter freckles on his cheek. Dan looks right back. Phil wonders what Dan sees when he’s looking at him like this. Whether he has similar thoughts.

“Martyn knows,” Phil whispers.

Dan raises his eyebrows. “About?” He gestures between them.

Phil nods. It overwhelms him again, pulls at the corners of his mouth and behind his eyes. Dan immediately becomes concerned, but Phil shakes his head.

“It’s good,” he says. “I think he figured it out a while ago.”

Dan frowns, then smiles, and he looks so full of thought Phil’s almost shaken by it.

“I’m proud of you,” Dan ends up whispering.

Fuck. Phil has to look away from the intensity of the feeling. Dan strokes down the back of Phil’s head to his neck, soft and reassuring. Phil takes some deep breaths, closing his eyes to stop the sudden rush inside. They’ve become so used to each other now. Dan’s always been careful, he’s always known to wait when Phil gets like this, but it’s different now to before. Dan waits with another kind of awareness now.

Phil finally manages to look back at Dan and mouth a ‘thank you’. It’s soundless but Phil has probably never meant anything as deeply as he means this. Dan opened his heart and he kept it open even in the most difficult moments. Dan got through to Phil like no one else ever has. Phil has so much to thank him for, but not like he’s in debt. He knows Dan’s demons as intimately as Dan knows Phil’s.

Once they make it to bed, Phil takes Dan in his arms with ease. It hasn’t been long since they moved Dan’s bed to Phil’s flat, but it feels like it’s always been this way. It’s a nice change. They get to spend time in a bigger flat in a bigger bed, and it probably won’t be long until Dan lets go of his own flat. He’s basically moved in with Phil already.

They lie in bed quietly, Phil wrapped around Dan’s back, thinking. The moon is covering the room in a cool, blue light. The window is open. It always is, because Dan likes it that way. Dan has been asserting himself a bit more lately, and Phil is happy to comply. Dan is warm enough that a slight November breeze won’t do much, anyway.

“I’m proud of you too,” Phil whispers.

Dan’s still awake, humming softly in response. He doesn’t sound as sleepy as Phil thought he was. They look at each other.

“I know,” Dan says.

Phil smiles. Dan’s eyes flicker down to his lips and over his face, deep in thought.

“I want to take a photo,” he says.

“Dan-”

“I know,” Dan says, a grin forming on his face. “Shouldn’t waste it. I don’t care. This isn’t wasting anything.”

He reaches for the drawer next to the bed. Phil rolls his eyes.

“I’d rather take a photo of you,” he says.

“Let’s take one together then,” Dan says.

He reaches out to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before he turns the camera around in his hands to face them. He’s lying against Phil’s back, chin fitted on top of one of Phil’s shoulders. Phil tilts his head back, eyes closed. He feels Dan’s lips against his cheek, a slight smile, and then the flash goes off. Dan gets up, pulls the photo out, and puts it on the nightstand underneath a book. 

“Another one to put in a museum one day?” Phil asks as Dan gets back under the duvet.

“Definitely,” Dan says. He kisses Phil on the mouth firmly, holding him by the jaw.

Phil deepens the kiss. Dan gets on top of him and they indulge in the feeling of one another as they begin to move together.

On the other side of the bedroom window, two robins come down to bathe in the rain filled flower box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter song:** How Soon Is Now by The Smiths
> 
> Thank you for reading this story 🐦💙

**Author's Note:**

> [ **[fic playlist]**](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4KthxYShRQKalj1OSJwll7) | **[tumblr](https://intoapuddle.tumblr.com/tagged/chaptered-fic%3A-time%27s-tide)** | [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/intoapuddle)
> 
> Massive thank yous to Nat @lackless and Jude @judearaya for betaing, and to Mellisa @spaceplumbs, Fi @psychicmoth, and Daye @somerdaye for cheerleading<3


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